Bug

I see germs in my sleep,
they are coming up the stairs,
no matter how many wipes
i use at the grocery store,
swabbing down the carts,
my hands, everything i come
in contact with, i still see
those dark and mean microbes
coming, like an insidious
army of fearless bugs.
the news can't stop talking
about them, the onslaught
of flu, the epidemic,
the deaths, the closings,
the fear of it all.
i cringe at the sound of
a cough, a sneeze, a clearing
of the throat, i pull up
my coat collar and hold
my breath for dear life.
please don't touch me,
or kiss me, or get near me.
i've sequestered myself in
my house until this all blows
over. let me know when
it's safe to go back out again.