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