They vanish with the virus

There is a clanging to our living,  
gongs and chimes accompany us,  
a tangle of the said and loud thoughts,  
bedlam and babel announce us  
as we enter rooms and other people's lives.  

But there is no swoosh, no poof, no wake  
of rustling, no feathers, no pandemonium  
when people vanish with the virus,  
he was beside you with the purr and murmur  
of fondness and then no longer.  
 
We know them, their names rolled out  
of our mouths like beautiful and mama,  
their cheeks we have palmed and pinched,  
their thoughts we giggled or disagreed with,  
we know them, there until awhile ago.  
 
We know their feats and their sins  
and what they call their children,  
this king this man this public servant,  
now inurned in hardly attended wakes,  
tepid paeans, their goodbyes unsalted.  
  
Why, Lord? the mind asks for alms all day,
  
but there is no time for that now,
  
they whose names were enunciated well,
  
who were hugged, whose cheeks  

were cupped, they are too many.    
      
“Just to be sure, if you can, say goodbye already.”