Pandemic Poems - APRIL 2020
Bio Note: I'm a poet living in Los Altos California, sheltering in place with dog, cat, family,
a dwindling supply of yeast but many blessings. I've had poems published in many nice places, and just started
a program for writing poems about our town, called Write the Town.
This is just to say, Pandemic Edition
I have eaten
the plums
and the chicken,
and the pasta,
all of the good cheese,
a family size bag of chips
and most of the cookies
you made
from that New York Times recipe.
Forgive me.
They were delicious
and it was Tuesday
or Wednesday
and didn’t you see
another recipe online
you wanted to try?
Stop Touching Your Fate
Life, March 2020
Life lingers on the fingertips.
Work, home, love, all
that you binged,
all that you scrolled
seeps into whorls
at the edge
of your existence.
Eyes the windows
to the soul, lips the steps
into the heart, skin
the seal between the bones
of the world and you.
Wash your hands with kindness,
with compassion, with the fragrant,
bubbling soap of joy. Now,
touch your face.
In the Meantime Which Is All Time
One closet remains a mess.
I haven’t written that novel.
I lost a few pounds,
but found them again
when the rain returned to the sky
and flour to the shelves.
Time has slowed to a crawl
and me struggling to keep
up with even the shadows.
Maybe I need the boundaries
of work and calendar to fence me,
to make me lean over and see
how green the grass is
on the other side of the quarantine.
©2020 Hilary King
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