Muttering (by Nana Kofi Obeng-Mensah)

I can’t see past the front yard.
The torment that lays beyond is
actually closer than I think.

It could be right next to me
as a matter of fact, with
my father attending work.

The smell of cleaning
supplies and hand sanitizer
pollutes the air as he speaks:

I need to work from home,
he thinks out loud,

covering his face
and muttering under his breath.