immured

The walls close in; we're forced to isolate
a new corona virus stalks the stage.
Until we find the means to vaccinate
we're forced to find amusement in our cage.
Without museums, restaurants and bars
we fax, and teleconference, and text
but hooking up  in cyberspace is hard;
without the face-to-face, we're starved for sex.
Trump didn't think we ought to mobilize;
the threat he feared was to the price of stocks.
But even those who want to trust his lies
are losing family to this new pox.
'Though Dickenson might not have deemed it bad,
such isolation's driving most folks mad.