|Issue 10:||October 2021|
It kills me not to linger over tomato basil soup, half a turkey sandwich with extra mayo, a mocha at the mall. Though now we can dine plein air in killer heat under a Southern California blanket of smoke-choke air, mosquitoes attacking everywhere. Oh, to roam sans masque—now objet de dualité: shelter for pandemic & smoke. With so much time on my hands, I should be writing a book. I could write about Separation. Rage. Fear. About mornings like this morning, lazing in bed, grilling my brain about what went on yesterday, how I will inhabit this day—mirror for mañana. Well after mañana. Will I stand in line at Trader Joe’s eyeing amaryllis, narcissus, cacti lined up along the waiting wall? Plants aching for touch. Fresh cut flowers first thing you see upon gliding through the guarded gate, red shopping cart handle moist under fearful fingers. I could write about Zooms that friends have maneuvered, take-out they’ve risked. Restaurant parking-lot canopies they’ve dined under—a pis aller for solitude. Ennui. Dishwashing. And what about doctors’ office visits? Waiting rooms looking weird now. More spacious, like purses. Chairs shoved up against walls, stacked in closets, magazines exiled—like lipsticks—along with coffee makers & creamer & Sweet’N Low. And what about my husband—his three-day, non-Covid hospital stay? I could write about how hard he leaned on the passenger door waiting for me, then on my arm to reach the ER door. How he forgot I couldn’t enter with him. How hard he leaned on the nurse who led him away from me. My sobbing in the car before heading home. How bags of O+ blood began coursing through him— urgently. Three bags of Separation. Rage. Fear.
is the author of Museum of Rearranged Objects (Kelsay Books) and five chapbooks, including Casbah and If You Spot Your Brother Floating By (Kattywompus Press). Her poetry has been read on BBC Radio 3 and has been nominated for the Pushcart Prize and Best of the Net. Recent poems have appeared in Atlanta Review, Lunch Ticket, Moria, and Spillway.
|Copyright © 2019-2023 by MacQueen’s Quinterly and by those whose works appear here.|
|Logo and website designed and built by Clare MacQueen; copyrighted © 2019-2023.|
At MacQ, we take your privacy seriously. We do not collect, sell, rent, or exchange your name and email address, or any other information about you, to third parties for marketing purposes. When you contact us, we will use your name and email address only in order to respond to your questions, comments, etc.