Pandemic Poems - APRIL 2020
Bio Note: My third and fourth collections of poetry are Shimmer (WordTech 2012) and Bird Flying through the Banquet (FutureCycle, 2017). My fifth collection, Evening, is still making the rounds; I would be thrilled with any suggestions for perhaps lesser known small presses anyone may have (no kidding).
Did we need to be reminded how temporary we are, how the earth’s just another planet revolving around a star— quickened with the accident of life, but not forever— how the universe itself might blink out like an iris wipe in a film? And reminded by you, the new crown of viruses, taking center stage like an egotist at a party, monopolizing all the frequencies (always me me me), who won’t let anyone else speak about anything? You are a ferocious wind seizing my words as I open my mouth— my pink-snow-drift bloom of poems scattered, my elegies trying to limn the essence of someone I loved, or mourn an ordinary death, all swallowed and crushed.
The Zen of Floor-Cleaning in the Time of Corona
I could take an hour for each square of tile, a day, a week, square by square by square stretching into the months ahead, exceedingly clean. I could take a toothbrush to the grout and lovingly scour the perimeter of each, as if I were showing my child, when she was four, how to brush her teeth. I could admire the purity and sheen of every finished inch of porcelain or border. The steam mop hisses when I stop to take a breath. Do some molecules of dirt ride the vapor and suspend in the air, floating on the room’s currents? I could learn to be present as I clean the floor. I could learn not to think of the future or the past.
©2020 Judy Kronenfeld
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