Spring of 2020:
First off, I’m asking – can I hire a stand in?
May I enter my fenced yard and plant vegetables?
Will pauses last past daffodils and tulips?
If into lilacs, may I stand on my porch,
inhale the scent? And what is social distancing?
How can I visit a toy store to buy a gift
for my granddaughter’s birthday if quarantine lasts?
What do you mean you can’t hear me, I’m muted?
Now I’m asking how many more will die
before masks don’t evolve into culture wars?
Why did retired I get a stimulus check, anyway?
How soon can my tattoo artist son travel?
How will my daughter manage home schooling her four?
Is there a control group for loneliness?
Spring of 2021:
Loneliness seemed rampant, out of control,
became seclusion’s most familiar guest.
I have varied questions that now haunt me:
When will my daughter return her children
to a school bus? When will we stop driving
home if we forget a facemask? How soon
will all my grandchildren get their vaccines,
share bats to break birthday party pinatas?
Hey! Doesn’t everyone deserve to scramble
for some candy? When will shelters reopen,
jobs rebound, law and order halt injustice?
Is health care for all really that outlandish?
Tell me, why do we argue vaccinations
while makeshift funeral pyres still burn?
