Ingrates

TRYST, two lover’s last on outbreak’s eve, they soon entombed.
MOUND, for burial of the city’s dead arriving too fast for single graves.
SPREE of death eventually births antidote’s invention.
SERUM!—One generation would have danced at its arrival. This one scoffs.

Tyranny of Clocks

CLOCK doles time, portioned out in ticks, serves as
BOSSY metronome overtakes all time’s tempo,
LIEGE lord of a time-bound race, counts each subtracted second.
BLOCK ticks! Breathe—seize back time’s unmeasured moments.