Zoom Class

Abigail Sipe

Atlas cannot get sick.  
She carries the immensity of the heavens on her shoulders  
And she only gets three absences per semester.  

But don’t worry. 
If she gets sick,  
And her legs fall beneath her,  
And the sky swirls into oblivion,  
And her grades decline, covered in red ink rain,  
And her thesis, a corpse of a dream, lies blank,  
Deadlines heavy, dark, storm clouds on the far horizon  
And her wedding, graduation dependent, is washed away,  
             deposits nonrefundable, time spills on and on in showers  
And her relationship — 
distanced love will find if this lasts another semester, if they’re still apart because she failed, and 
if she couldn’t stand in the storm, it must, it will, and if,  
And if the world is crushed beneath her when she falls,  
Atlas can still join over Zoom.