Pandemic Poems - APRIL 2020
Bio Note: I'm a poet having lived most of my life between New York and Los Angeles. I bring song-writing programs into the prisons, jails and youth detention facilities for my day job. A few places that liked my work enough to publish it include Citron Review, Harvest Literary Magazine, Short & Deadly, and Skive Magazine.
We Were Never Perfect
now a vast vacant street I walk alone face scarfed hands gloved the occasional car blasting radio screeching stop silence darkens the membranes of the neighborhood creeps into doorways drapes around corners that once bustled with Audis, BMWs and self-importance they don't drive the on-shore current but lay in wait as the earth and moonlight laugh and squirrels and pigeons reclaim the land scurry the grounds I'm navigating desolation as winds kick up their chorus a helicopter whirs in night sky crimes seem pointless today the masked man at the cash register talks about eating junk food and his grandson six and smart missing friends and playground he's smoking again it's just too much yeah, he's smoking again but he hasn't started to drink
Because there is no time for us we grapple with meaning catch truth in heart-shaped buckets sniff the flutter of Hummingbird wings defy the Cheshire cat sitting in the corner already a feather hanging from his mouth.
©2020 Kat Kambes
Editor's Note: If this poem(s) moves you please consider writing to the author (email address above) to tell her or him. You might say what it is about the poem that moves you. Writing to the author is what builds the community at Verse Virtual. It is very important. -JL