Together Again in the Shadow Of The Plague

Written on March 5, 2020 

We sit around the table 
pass the Purelle 
and wash the children’s’ hands excessively. 

We look at our token wolf mask 
in its place on the wall and 
we howl the family howl 

but only after we link hands, close our 
eyes tight & say Grace, 
my dead mother’s name. 

It’s good to have us all back 
from over the Southern Border 
but I wonder about plague sequelae 

& worry about the silent fetus 
young & vulnerable & 
susceptible to harm– 

carried and so far safely. 

The crown germ lurks and threatens 
on every placid voyaged surface, 
on every happy traveler’s face– 

its nonchalance a stark 
contrast to the innocent porters 
who shake its glitter indiscriminately 
everywhere. 

Laura Celise Lippman