Pandemic Poems - APRIL 2020
Jane Rosenberg LaForge
Bio Note: I live in New York. I miss my parents. They were news and politics junkies, fervent Democrats. My next full-length collection of poems will be "Medusa's Daughter" from Animal Heart Press. It's about my mother. My second novel, about my sister (also deceased), is about to come to fruition but details haven't been firmed up yet. Tune into my Facebook author page and stay abreast.
The Last Normal Day
Perhaps I went to the market where the cashier appears either blind or religious as she rings up the produce; her eyes barely open though the whites are visible as though she has caught the spirit, on the cusp of pronouncing witness. I might have gone to the drug store on the corner; I’m invested in the relationship I’ve cultivated with the pharmacist. She says she wishes all her customers were as understanding and patient as I am. She obviously doesn’t know me, but my husband and I are in so thick with the prescriptions, it doesn’t hurt to leave her in this blessed ignorance. I probably was congratulating myself for adapting so well to life here: No car, much walking, always taking the subway like a champion. I could have been eating lettuce, crisp and glinting with a special confidence. Most likely I was writing a poem about my father, the switchblade he used to weed the lawn as if single-handedly taking on our enemies, the hoards scheming to separate us from all that he had fought for, also known as the great unwashed, unemployed, underprivileged, and of course the Communists. We kids thought that conflict was forever, without conclusion, and once finished, only better minds than ours would be in on the glory and celebration.
©2020 Jane Rosenberg LaForge
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