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Writer's pictureMadison Jansen

Life in Quarantine: Poems in Pandemic (Guest Post)

Written by Anonymous


sonnet in a pandemic 3/13/20

does

this

[everything ending]

change

anything

between

us?

(are you scared, my dear?

we could

hold hands)

in the black

-out, adjust together

to our new conditions

(i miss you, i miss you).

(instead we

practice good

“social distancing”:

isolate inside our

individual homes,

wash our hands,

etc.)

why should i

venture

(that you’re gone)

if my house is safe

and clean? if

health is

what this means?

(i try alternative touching:

hugging my torso.

i try hugging my pillow.)

(i try not to

touch)

my face

&

i

don’t

come out

for anything

i don’t

absolutely

require.


you would hate this 4/4/20


see, there’s this virus

i don’t know if i’ve mentioned it

makes

everything

harder

what i do accomplish

i pay for in “dead brain”

staring, scrolling, moaning

what’s next

is the fear

is there

anyone out there

who just, idk, *feels*

???

i think

of *you*

then i imagine

you could do for me

what i can’t do for myself

then, when you don’t

i get

so sad

4/8/20

i baked a whole batch of cookies for myself and when they came out of the oven, ugly, i almost threw them all away. instead, i wrapped them up, tried to sleep. it’s 5:45am and i’m tasting the cookies now. they’re good. i’m glad i kept them. and you did text me.

what kind of drama is this.

4/8/20

sooOoo i'm beginning my day at 4:40pm in a position of being thankful




you want to love this tree 4/9/20

we lift our masks

but you can’t see my face

you’re standing in my front lawn

approximately 6 ft away from me

and the light is blowing out

from my warm house

hiding me

but lighting you

and i am in love with you

4/11/20

on the other side of this curtain is you

fresh...strange...better than i remember


4/18/20

they’re just words, no caress…the sound of the bowl breaking, like the dog sniffing, really concerned me because i thought i was alone.


1 day 4/24/20

when your icon comes on

(instagram), “active now,”

i say, “good morning,”

like we used to.

and throughout the day,

i log on to check when last you used

this same site as me, look for another

“active now,” but settle for an

“active 5 minutes ago

...17 minutes ago.”

after an hour,

you feel far. funny,

you have never been far, really.

our distance is as virtual as

our relationship is. you’re over there

on [l] avenue, and we’ll

never touch, because you’ll never be

here on [g] street; i am.

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