Third Anniversary (During COVID-19)
After Mikko Harvey
I don’t
want you
to be
scared. Maybe
thinking of
a cat
would help.
Have you
seen
the video of
the one
waddling into
the ocean
to be with
her friend?
She swims
onto his
head
and they stay
afloat.
When they’re done,
she beelines
through sand
to the towel
he set up
on the
beach,
and he pours
sun-warmed
water to
heat her up
before he rubs
her down.
Sometimes we
have to remember
the world before.
We don’t know
what’s going
to happen.
Kingsford and DQ
are especially
tender
at a time
like this.
What
are we
supposed
to do?
Not pet
them?
Right now,
DQ is snoring
on the blue
blanket of
the futon
without
a worry.
Our first
three years
have been
that soft.
I hope
this passes
soon.
Until then
we will squeeze
each other–
holding
our cats
close, all of
us afloat.
Barrier
It’s daunting, the path
leading out
to the world.
My car’s been
out of use
for weeks
and rusts
on the street.
I’d prefer simpler
times:
chalk ghosts
on concrete–
now, don’t
come so close.
Self-Isolation (Day Twenty-Three – April 5, 2020)
In the morning light that surprised in all the surrounding
darkness of the era I am only hungry for the world to change
its tune from Virus Major to Canis Minor like back when all
the sad dogs sought regular companionship through the day.
Though home is where the heart is (TJ MAXX propaganda)
the heart is home far too often, staring to the sky in need of
a long embrace from ever-shifting clouds that spread thinner
and thinner by the wings of blackbirds gloriously racing
through the whiteblue plane.
…………..
James Croal Jackson (he/him/his) is a Filipino-American poet. He has a chapbook, The Frayed Edge of Memory (Writing Knights Press, 2017), and recent poems in DASH, Sampsonia Way, and Jam & Sand. He edits The Mantle (themantlepoetry.com). He works in film production in Pittsburgh, PA. (jamescroaljackson.com)