Hi there,
Just to let you know, three of my pandemic poem are in this wonderful anthology. See below the lovely cover:
Poems:
Dotty LeMieux
In climates where the temperatures rarely, if ever, drop
below 50°F, the honeybee colony keeps working all year‐round.
Encyclopedia Britannica
This is the day I cut my own toe attempting
a clumsy pedicure at the edge of the tub, then
tumble backward, bashing a rib
into the edge of my fickle scale
my husband locks himself out of the office, calls
impatient—you don’t answer your phone
I’m down on my knees, bloodied
thinking about breathing in
and breathing out
How deep is the breath
in this old battered body?
No spring in this chicken
and the hair, uncombed, frantic
Bone, muscle gristle, what
is being born today is not me
or you, maybe a nation, or a notion
of decency after all, maybe a chance
to dream
Ribs will heal, skin be restored
with Neosporin and a band‐aid
keys delivered
But what of our Republic?
What of hope?
Will they wither and fade
like last season’s tomato plants?
Or blossom like a winter rose, translucent,
still attractive to life‐sustaining bees
who beat all odds by resolute
pumping of wings
to fly?
Like It Was Normal
Dotty LeMieux
On a Sunday night we go next door
to say goodbye to the neighbors moving
across the country
Like it was normal, we go
right inside the house
to share farewells
Like it was normal, a small
group has gathered
wearing masks and touching nothing
Suddenly the one leaving
grabs me in a hug
I want to hug back
like it was normal, but freeze,
stiffen against rudeness
to protect myself, her,
the one leaving to care
for her newly widowed father
and the neighbors staying behind
the ones we see everyday
on dog walks, getting the mail, passing
never closer than six feet
Goodbyes are quick, we promise
emails, phone calls, run
back home, embarrassed
Like it was normal, we lock
the door behind us, wash
our hands for twenty long seconds
take our temperature for 10, 14 days
scour each other and the web
for unusual symptoms
put up talismans to ward off
evil spirits
like it was normal.
What Happens to Me Happens Also to
You
Never more apparent than in a pandemic
I reach for the door of the refrigerated case
in the supermarket and you reach for it too
Our hands meet, but only on cold steel
What I deposit there, you receive and carry
and pass on to the next item in the store
and your car and then take home
to your children
What you deposit, I pick up and carry
to the lettuce, the spinach, the Winesap apples
I reject as unripe
and home to rest on the doorknob
and the back of my husband’s neck
Even with a mask, with washing, with taking
no chances, I become you and you become me
We are mirror images of each other
even in the best of times
The multitudes within me are within you
They grow and multiply and so enlarge us
until there are no distinctions made
no boundaries formed,
no alliances claimed, shored up,
fought for
When even the dogs in their ignorance
join the chain of becoming infected
with us,
their eyes pleading
for touches
for treats
for any small reassurances
of consistency and love.
