Despite the heart-wrenching news

I told myself,

In spring you must believe.

You no longer know if it’s tears or rain

Pouring down the window panes. Resurrection?

Just a word

As empty as the tomb. Angels

Have no humour, not being familiar with

Bedroom frolics and the pungent

Whiffs of lovely haired pineapple

Lilies. Despite their fleshiness

Winged messengers prefer roses

To what smells

Like something has died.

Despite its outrageous facelessness,

In spring you must believe.

Two days ago two chicks

Hopped their way to our flat.

The big chipmunk chick is Doddie,

The tiny one Tanny—its charcoal down

And stillness make it look like an inkblot

That looks like the mask you wear

When you go outside. Rules say keep safe

Distance and you think keepsake

And trying to keep life

Normal for the sake of your child.

Huge crows hover over our balcony.

Everything that still goes unexplained

Darkens the horizon. No answers.

No respite from the psychological

Violence of it all.

Doddie, aged 4 weeks (May 10, 2020)

(This poem was first published in Self-Quarantine Lines, Jennifer K. Dick’s friendly blog.)

Commencez à saisir votre recherche ci-dessus et pressez Entrée pour rechercher. ESC pour annuler.

Retour en haut