June 2022
Bio Note: I am a grant writer and the poet laureate of my city, Sheboygan, Wisconsin, an honor that was bestowed upon me in the summer of 2020. I think being a poet who writes grants (or a grant writer who writes poetry) is a good combination of skills. Both require me to tell a good story in as few well-chosen words as possible. These are poems from the last couple years loosely organized around the theme of loss.
The First Day
I finished the puzzle today
the one we started last April.
What a coup! I am so proud
of my achievement. Now what?
There’s nothing left to do
but dismantle the whole thing
and put it back in the box.
Completion is its own reward.
As night falls the wind chimes
make their jingle jangle in the key of C
and the sound is plaintive,
lonely and comforting.
I’m doing all the things.
The potatoes are in the oven
I roasted some veggies.
I even washed the kale.
I can honestly say I am ready
for whatever is coming next.
Dinner, certainly, and then?
Monday, it will be business as usual.
But there is no more usual.
It is the evening of the first day.
The sun never broke through the clouds
It looks exactly like it did for the last
eight hours, only darker.
We live in unprecedented times,
where we shall remain
for the foreseeable future.
Each of us a puzzle, hoping
one day to complete ourselves.
The Crossing Point
history repeats itself
with each turn around the sun
children running, and this time
it’s not a game
everyone goes looking for a flag
out in the green field
way down by the river
they find a crossing point
where once there were only flowers
now there are guns
right before the blinding flash
something that changes everything
every lost child carries by hand
one small piece of home
one small piece of home
every lost child carries by hand
something that changes everything
right before the blinding flash
now there are guns
where once there were only flowers
they find a crossing point
way down by the river
out in the green field
everyone goes looking for a flag
it’s not a game
children running, and this time
with each turn around the sun
history repeats itself
©2022 Lisa Vihos
Editor's Note: If this poem(s) moves you please consider writing to the author (email address above) to say what it is about the poem you like. Writing to the author is what builds the community at Verse Virtual. It is very important. -JL