Pandemic Poems - APRIL 2020
Kat Kambes
katkambes@gmail.com
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

Zeitgeist

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
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