A Nobody





A Nobody


(thank you Emily Dickinson)


as she lives through plague-days 


quarantined from a dangerous world


her chapped hands flutter   her bare feet dance 


she sorts her t-shirts   folds her white sheets


chops onions   celery   peels knobby carrots   


shreds poached chicken breasts for soup  


visits her garden   tastes damp spring earth  


whispers her guilty pleasure in the hellebore’s ear


 removed at long long last from the otherly world


where a deadly virus rampages across oceans   mountains


she is sequestered at home   sterile   careful


news of illness   death reaches her in raspy whispers 


her former life is shuttered   locked down   stilled


even god has disappeared 


she invents her own rhythm   cadence   desires


composes 1800 poems   sews them into rose-scented packets  


stows them in a bedroom drawer


she is a blessed nobody too


forever grateful









A Nobody (thank you Emily Dickinson)



I Hold your Hand Love