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Katie McLemore<br />
COVID-19 Ghazal<br />
No more gym, no more pool, no more normalcy.<br />
No more food, no more crowds, no more toilet paper.<br />
Classes are online, and I should be enjoying sleeping in.<br />
Yet, it’s 6 A.M. and I’m driving to Walmart in hopes to score some toilet paper.<br />
Inside the stores, aisles are bare, there’s nothing left for me.<br />
They didn’t even leave a trace of dust or the cardboard core of toilet paper.<br />
I run outside since that’s somehow still allowed, and my mind begins to travel.<br />
After about 3 miles I stop and wonder, “Where do hoarders even store all that<br />
toilet paper?!”<br />
The sunny days now seem dark, the bleakness doesn’t help in a crisis.<br />
I wish those clouds would just burst already, with a heavy downpour of<br />
toilet paper.<br />
This morning I think I’ll try HEB instead, then maybe I’ll have a chance.<br />
But when I walk up, I see a sign posted on the door, “Limit on toilet paper.”<br />
During the virus outbreak, I’ve managed to gather enough to get by.<br />
However, I wonder when this will all be over, when will I stop searching for<br />
toilet paper?<br />
The stupid lines of tape along the ground make me want to scream.<br />
The empty aisle labeled “bath tissue” makes me want to roar over toilet paper.<br />
No more ranting, no more venting, no more writing for Katie.<br />
I’m sorry if reading this has been a bother, I’ll stop being a bore about<br />
toilet paper.<br />
168 WINDWARD REVIEW | Vol. 18
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