Plague Poems – The Hundred-and-Thirty-Fifth Week

You say
that when someone
is wearing a mask
you cannot tell
cannot really tell
if they are truly smiling
and though that may be
it is worth bearing in min d
that even when you can
see someone’s mouth and teeth
you still cannot tell
cannot really tell
if they are truly smiling.

I do not know
whether or not we are at the start
of another wave
though after scouring the data
I can unfortunately report
there has been an uptick
in people complaining
that the scented candles
they recently purchased
do not smell like anything.

When I asked my sister
if she was making plans
for her upcoming birthday
she regaled me with the details
for a lavish night
to be spent at home
for she is still planning
on avoiding the virus.

I have heard
that the pandemic is over
so there must be
some other explanation
for why all these concerts
keep getting cancelled.

Editorial Note: This is a collection of Plague Poems written between October 8, 2022 and October 14, 2022.

They were initially posted online on Twitter at @plaguepoems and Instagram at @plague_poems.

Throughout the duration of this crisis new poems will be posted regularly at that Twitter account, they will then be collected and reposted here in weekly increments.

Home is where
the plague
is not
except, of course,
for when
the plague
is there as well.

After your public coughing fit
do not announce
that it isn’t covid
your comment will do the opposite
of reassuring those around you
and besides
there’s a good chance you’re wrong.

We can never go back
to being the people we were
before the pandemic
for the people we were
in those bygone days
did not have to devote effort
to convincing themselves
that they were the same
as they had been
before the pandemic.

Diseases is made tolerable
by the belief in recovery
eventually the day comes
when you are as well (if not better)
than you had been before
and though I sustain myself
with the knowledge
that the virus will not reign forever
I struggle to believe
we will ever truly recover.

The choice is yours:
you can allow yourself
to be reminded
that the plague has not ended
by the worried voices around you
or you can ignore them
carry on carefree for a little longer
and then allow yourself
to be reminded
that the pandemic has not ended
by the virus itself.

When I was young
my older sister
insisted that germs
would not attack food
dropped on the floor
until five seconds had passed.

It now seems
many people’s older sisters
have told them that the virus
will not attack them
if they remove their mask
for a five second bite to eat.

My apologies
for the misunderstanding
I fully recognize
that years of too loud music
has ruined my hearing
but when I asked you
to please repeat what you said
I was not asking you
to remove your mask
and bring your face closer to mine.

Your friends know you too well
to believe you
when you say that you’re fine
you have too many tells
and they know them all
so just say you are tired
and maybe a bit overwhelmed
they will probably assume
that you are talking about work
and you can let them believe that.

When we were children
we fantasized
about how we would grow up
to be astronauts and pirates
presidents and bank robbers
archeologists and inventors
and though only you
truly recall your youthful dream
you likely did not imagine
that you would grow up
to be stuck in a pandemic.

When your friends tell you
that they have had it
with the virus
you need not wonder
whether they mean
that they have literally had it
or that they are done with it
for they probably mean both.

Endemic
is just another way of saying
that we are free to ignore
the death count.

Being patient was easy
when articles and advertisements
promised that if we waited
just a little longer
we would be rewarded
with debauchery and delights
that would make up
for all we had missed
how much harder it is to wait
when our patience
is only rewarded with more plague.

I do not know
if I will make it
to the end of the pandemic
so instead I will focus
on trying to make it
to the end of this day.

Your email
has found me
trying to survive
a pandemic.

When you do not
have to look
at the hospital beds
or coffins
it is easy to be enraged
by the sight of a mask.

You are right, there’s a chance
that fives years from now
I’ll look back at this moment
at the precautions I’m still taking
and feel as though
I was a fool to be so worried
but if five years from now
I am still here
alive and able to look back
that will be good enough for me.

Plague Poems…the following week

Plague Poems…the first week

Plague Poems…the full list

About Z.M.L

“I do not believe that things will turn out well, but the idea that they might is of decisive importance.” – Max Horkheimer librarianshipwreck.wordpress.com @libshipwreck

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