Plague Poems – The Hundred-and-Sixty-First Week

Walking is good for you
at least that’s what was said
in an article I read the other day
and that is surely a comforting idea
to keep in the back of your mind
while you put foot in front of foot
as you spend another week
slowly walking
through these plagued lands.

When I ask
how their Seder was
my father tells me
that as they sat at the table
my aunt and cousin
weren’t feeling well
and both have since tested positive,
hoping they did not share it
with my great aunt
he jokes that this year’s Seder
had an eleventh plague
but neither of us laugh.

The one I love
sent me a message
saying the college where she works
was going into lockdown
“active shooter protocol enacted”
and though as I write this
the all clear has been given
I cannot stop thinking
that there is something wrong
something very wrong
with this country.

I keep hearing
that I must live my life
and I’m trying to do that
really, I am,
but wherever I look
I see the signs
of how this society
cuts short the lives
that people
are just trying to live.

Editorial Note: This is a collection of Plague Poems written between April 8, 2023 and April 14, 2023.

They were initially posted online on Twitter at @plaguepoems, on Mastodon at @plaguepoems@mastodon.social, and on Instagram at @plague_poems

Throughout the duration of this crisis new poems will be posted regularly at the above mentioned accounts, they will then be collected and reposted here as weekly compendiums.

According to
the recently signed bill
(H.J. Res. 7 to be exact)
“the national emergency
related to
the COVID-19 pandemic”
has been terminated
which must come as a relief to you
as you wonder why
half the people you know
keep coming down
with strange unseasonable illnesses.

Yes, many people died,
and many are still dying,
yes, many suffered lasting damage,
and many more face lasting damage,
yes, many are grieving,
and many more will grieve,
but forgive me my insensitivity
in the midst of this I had forgotten
that you
were mildly inconvenienced.

Should some rude stranger
respond to your masked face
by snarling “we all know
who you voted for”
it may be tempting to reply
that at least you
did not vote for the plague,
but be honest with yourself
the candidates you supported
have also stopped
caring about the pandemic.

According to
the politicians, and
the columnists, and
the bosses, and
the schools, and
the unmasked crowds:
the pandemic is over,
so if you would please
be so kind
as to inform the virus
for it seems that it
has not received the message
and chances are
you will run into it soon.

At long last
the national emergency
is officially behind us
and as for the virus
that too is behind us
though it is also
to the left of us
to the right of us
and ahead of us.

The pandemic
is ending
not with a bang
and not with a whimper
but with a chorus of coughs
and a murmur of voices
wondering why it is
that they are feeling so unwell
suggesting perhaps
that the pandemic
is not actually ending.

The article claimed
“100 years from now,
this is what we’ll say
got us through the pandemic”
perhaps, in a 100 years
some will be interested
in pandemic era
bourgeois media consumption
but the real question won’t be
what shows we watched
but why we stopped watching
the pandemic.

My neighbor and I
stood there watching
as a car across the street
was consumed by flames
and as we watched
he said “this feels like
a metaphor for something”
but then he went back inside
while the fire still blazed
and I thought “now this feels like
a metaphor for something.”

This is not much
just words
words on a page
words on a screen
and though words alone
are never enough
with these words
I refuse to accept
that infections
and reinfections
are inevitable,
and I will continue
to do my best
to break chains
of transmission
by deeds
and with words.

It has been long enough
that my memory
of what the normal before this
genuinely looked like
is admittedly strained
but I do not remember
spring in those normal days
consisting of
concerts being canceled
events being postponed
and everyone being oddly ill.

Yes, it would be nice
if high quality masks
were available
in a wider range of colors
or perhaps in fun patterns
that would certainly make them
much more stylish
but basic black or simple white
still make a fashion statement
they state:
I am trying not to get sick.

I’ve eaten my fill
of matzah
and the Seder plate
has been returned to its box
the holiday is done
it has passed over me
and though I will be pleased
to eat bread once more
if I’m being honest
I still feel
like I am wandering in the desert.

I understand
that we are no longer
at the height
of the pandemic
yet when I look around
and see the indifference
being shown towards
what is still happening
I cannot help but feel
that we are now
in the depths
of the pandemic.

I read an article
in which some experts claimed
that the plague
has mutated so much
at this point that
its name should be changed
from SARS-CoV-2 to SARS-CoV-3
which I suppose means
that the old pandemic is over
and the new pandemic has begun.

People are always saying
not to worry so much
that we
have been through
worse, much worse,
than this before
and while I suppose
that is a fair point
if applied to our ancestors
that was them
that was then
yes, they went through
worse, much worse, than this
but have we?

Listen, you must
put down
that fire extinguisher
live your life
in this burning building.

Come on, you must
take off
that life preserver
live you life
in this sinking ship.

Please, you must
stop wearing
that face mask
live your life
in this evolving pandemic.

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

View all posts by Z.M.L →