| Everyone was experiencing bizarre dreams, and I was no exception. Every night, I woke 3-4 times, startled from my sleep. But I couldn’t quite garner what was happening in my dreams. I could only discern bits and blurs. Try as hard as I could. Nothing for the first 3-4 weeks. Then a snippet. It looked like a letter left in the rain. Blurred words on a scroll. Each morning, I would gather a new piece to my nocturnal puzzle.Then one Sunday, I awoke with a full reckoning. It was a twitter feed, but instead of tweets, a list of every person who had passed from the virus. Starting with Patricia Dowd. Each night, new names were added to the top of the list. But at the bottom of the list, the same thing appeared night after night. A signature in black Sharpie. Barely legible. A familiar Scrawl. Seen on bills, checks, and now roll call for Covid. |
| Carol Parris Krauss is a mother, teacher, and poet from the Tidewater region of Virginia. She likes to incorporate nature into her poems, even when the poem is not about nature. In 2018, she was honored to be recognized by the University of Virginia Press as a Best New Poet. Her work can be found in various online and print venues such as Twist in Time, Amsterdam Quarterly, the South Carolina Review, and New Verse News. More of her work can be viewed at http://www.carolparriskrausspoet.com . |