1. |
New Normal
02:32
|
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2. |
In the Streets
03:11
|
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|
The viruses had first and last names
until there were too many to count.
We grafted masks onto their faces
and by that point, what did names
matter? We locked them in boxes
sealed within larger boxes
built in ten days, but still
they leaked out into the streets,
bumping randomly into people
who could not see. Watch for them,
we whispered, but to us they all looked
the same. We practiced saying plague,
a fun word, not knowing the other ways
we are doomed. We stalked the side alleys
with déjà vu, feeling we’d done this
before, back in another lifetime—spying
on neighbors, reporting family,
misery enforced as baseline.
In a way, we are all the same disease.
To survive humans, you have to give up
humanity—so says the tyrant within.
Our lungs cracked like sheet ice. Breath
whistled through our veins like steam. We searched
for sickness, but there was only sharpness, like guilt.
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3. |
In the Bedroom
02:07
|
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|
The virus watched, nose pressed
against the window, but the lovers
didn’t notice, they rolled like bonobos, shaking
the bed. We heard through our walls,
which means they could hear us, too,
shaking in ways animals can,
forgetting—forgiving—our limbs, our
organs, all the ways our rococo parts
can thrash, can work toward climax, can spoil,
omphalos of all the worlds where we
exist, our vigor omnidirectional.
On the other side, our other neighbor
pounded on the wall. Damn
him, we thought, could he not
take it up with the virus, out there?
Of course, we knew we were being
unfair. The virus was here to stay.
We could sense it even now, lonely
virus shivering in the cold,
eyes alit upon the ecstasy unfolding,
time and everything stopped, its breath
fogging up our window, trying to leave
a reminder, its mouth curled in an O,
shouting Ooh-la-la. And, Bravo!
|
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4. |
Solo
01:51
|
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5. |
In the Air
02:40
|
|||
|
Masks. Wearing them,
we were more aware
of the other.
Our eyes locked more often,
for longer, searching for provocation,
gauging interest
down to conjunctiva.
We experimented with sounds,
soughing and snuffling,
and remembered the lessons
our cats and dogs had taught:
ears back, head tilted. We were polite
to those we did not care for,
widening our expressions,
softening our brows
to say we understand the feeling.
But occasionally, next to a body
we leaned toward,
we grimaced with yearning,
with agony and despair that we could not
rip off these masks and laugh
at our poor nerves aflutter. Our gazes
settled on cloudshadow and withy,
old tiles on rooftops and dragon wings
rippling the pale blue. We saw the ways
we merge with the world, with the air,
taking into our lungs
the trees, the purslane in pavement, the rewards
for being who we are. Magic, we said
to ourselves, forgetting what we were afraid of.
|
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6. |
In Our Wants
03:50
|
|||
|
We smiled through facemasks,
said hello with our brows,
held open doors
to remind each other
we were still here. We nodded
knowingly
on our grocery runs, greeted,
The sky is nice. The air, clean.
We were surrounded by kindness
that made us forget our grief;
we found decency
that made us forget the rest.
Our hearts itched for reason, our minds
wanted for touch. Whatever else we craved,
of insurrection or truth,
whatever small bonuses we desired
for ourselves, or ailments we nursed,
of anger or temperatures, we did it indoors.
We pulled our curtains and waited
till the kettle screeched, then said
exactly what we had always wanted.
|
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7. |
In the Heart
03:20
|
|||
|
We stopped saying hello.
We infected with caprice,
infected ones we love with doubt,
those we dislike with conviction;
with memories of the gone,
which is an exacting affliction,
afflicted as we are with the same disease;
with misunderstanding;
with truth blasted out like a sneeze;
with borders we could now see;
with suspicion
and blame we no longer kept to ourselves.
The virus was gone. In those early days
we replaced it with energy and humor,
then with our sense of what is righteous,
trying to infect others.
A triumph for our country, the news trumpeted,
while we questioned if we deserved it.
We leaned away from bodies, stopped
holding doors.
We dragged our feet on office carpets,
burdened by familiar debts.
We looked mockingly on those still masked,
forgetting the ways we are infectious.
We walked the streets like sorrowful ghosts
and with two fingers rubbed our chests.
What is it that was missing?
|
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8. |
Here to Stay
02:40
|
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Anthony Tao, Liane Halton Beijing, China
LIANE HALTON graduated from Rhodes University in South Africa in classical guitar performance and composition. ANTHONY TAO is an editor and writer whose poetry has appeared in publications such as Prairie Schooner, Borderlands, The Cortland Review, Kartika Review, Frontier, Asian Cha, etc. ... more
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