Covid July   Cling to anything from before — what else do we know? The way we touched when our faces were unmasked, unmistakable, wellsprings of love, or the way we moved with grace, determined and unafraid. We remember dancefloors, handshakes, running with the crowd, packing the house, gathering and assembling, forming congresses and choirs, and the loudest voices sang in harmony, made sense of suffering, made sense. Now we don’t play music together. All our monuments are broken, and masks are the price we pay for breathing, venturing out. We were wrong about so much. We were masked all along.     © Michael Fleming Brattleboro, Vermont July 2020