corona 6.
on the 6th or 60th day of plague
all the men in my neighborhood
stood outside building fires
stared into smoke
one fire for every yard
one fire for every family
the men divined answers in burnt brush
and plumes rising
on the 6th or 60th day of plague
our planet jostled and shifted
blared its weird televised noise
panic lived in my stomach
my son built a fire
on the 6th or 60th day of plague
I stood on my porch and smoked
half a joint while the woman
at the end of my road
propped an Infant Jesus of Prague
statuette against a fat yellow candle
on the 6th or 60th day of plague
all the men in my neighborhood
stood outside building fires
stared into smoke
one fire for every yard
one fire for every family
the men divined answers in burnt brush
and plumes rising
on the 6th or 60th day of plague
our planet jostled and shifted
blared its weird televised noise
panic lived in my stomach
my son built a fire
on the 6th or 60th day of plague
I stood on my porch and smoked
half a joint while the woman
at the end of my road
propped an Infant Jesus of Prague
statuette against a fat yellow candle
posted by Radish King at 1:26 PM
4 Comments:
These will one day be published by you as a chronicle in poetry of this time. In other words- a true recounting of the days.
Oh damn woman you made me goodcry
i, too, am grateful for such a witness as you.
Thank you my dear friend. I read a comment on twitter this morning that people need to not write virus poems but it is the only way I can read at this moment in this space. XO
Post a Comment
<< Home