Filtered breath escapes between my mask and nose,
fogging shield, yet
I clearly see your worried brow.
Cloth and plastic
muffle voices, disguise faces, lips
cannot hide smiling eyes.
I would grasp your warm hands
with my inevitably cold ones, tactile sensate
Gloved must do
haptics muted by clammy nitrile
cannot dull a healing touch.
Lealani Mae Acosta, MD, MPH