One. Early days of quarantine --
What are we folding when we are folding laundry in quarantine? --
Easter poem during plague time (because there is no fake grass to put in your baskets this year, but there is real grass instead) --
Menopause in quarantine --
On homesickness, back when we traveled --
Poems and dreams are free --
To Max Ritvo, who once said to me: --
Differences between me and my dog --
Poems are good company --
Two. Poems written after May 25, the day George Floyd was murdered --
White backup singers, June 1 --
Separating the laundry, June 6 --
Whiteness near the Fourth of July 2020 --
A white lady at a theater cocktail party --
An end to apartheid in America --
Three. Haiku, tanta and senry¿± in quarantine --
Love poem to my husband, who fixed the Scotch tape dispenser today --
Was my poetry party a super-spreader? --
Haiku written with my son in March --
When I was a child I loved to watch soap bubbles pop in the evening air --
For Elvis Costello, who said to me: --
"I will teach you how" --
"Look out your window:" --
The woman who was bagging my groceries, when I asked how she was, said: --
A riddle, the answer: live theater --
I am running out of things to cook --
For my oldest daughter --
And that is enough for now --
"In the city I noticed" --
I read that people who groom more during quarantine are happier and it seems like a chicken-or-egg situation but my friend tells me about foot masks so I buy one --
Midday, and the children come out of their rooms where they have been learning on screens --
Watching the food lines grow in New Jersey --
Remembered poem of a second grader named Patrick, Queens, twenty-five years ago --
Another reason dogs are wise --
It used to be very impolite --
On a Zoom call, watching my in-laws throw my father-in-law's ashes into the sea --
Remembering a time we could eat oysters together --
While I am on a work Zoom call, my son --
White people make bread while Black and Brown people die in America --
A negative test while the moon rises --
Birthday haiku for Uncle Joe written on Zoom --
My daughter asked me when she was three: --
"My dog rubbed herself" --
Mediation, day 121 of quarantine --
Polish the stone or the mind --
In Tibet it is said that when --
Watching the bird fly standing still --
Move your pants before the tide comes in --
For Anne's seventy-sixth birthday --
And today all that happened was --
Communion wafer in the night sky --
On entitled Brooklyn parents --
For John Cage, who said: --
My dog tries to walk into our old house --
Lawn mowers and Bash¿'s grass pillow --
You ask me to look in your eyes, and the familiar and unfamiliar rhyme --
If a dead butterfly can still fly, what does that signify? --
Can sea cucumbers be instructive? --
My children are baking bread again --
It was not a day for singing --
Large waves and children --
Immortality through property --
On a walk I saw a snake, a rabbit, and a dead rat --
I am a messy cook and this annoys my husband who is an orderly cook --
I think about patience while I chop mushrooms --
What is a child's duty? --
Quarantine in August, the overripe month --
Attempt at holding opposing truths in the mind --
"Don't store your anger" --
A photo from when I was sick --
"There is no cure for" --
Bell's palsy, ten years out --
Tomorrow and tomorrow and time zones --
I wear your sweater for extra warmth --
Is God a who or a what when the world falls apart? --
"Do you have grief to spare?" --
Books don't spread germs --
Election day is windy in Rhode Island and the weather report says that --
"I thought it was a mist..." --
As the days get shorter and shorter --
Today I learned that in kindergarten, a boy named --
"My first love came with" --
I made two false assumptions looking at a red cardinal --
Boiling water isn't mad at the tea --
"This field. This snow. This" --
Playing card games with others --
Meditation, January 18 --
Meditation, January 19 --
Lesson from quarantine --
A person can be pedantic about anything --
Counting the stars is impossible --
I'm scared of the desk today, so --
"The doors don't quite shut" --
Passage from one yard to another --
And all the frozen snow melted today --
I don't know anything about time --
A year since quarantine began --
What of my eyes and their infallibility? --
"There are things I must" --
My glasses sit on the rug --
Scrolling upon waking up --
I have brought my dog with me. Why? --
What is the holy name, you or the Lord? --
"My dog writes for me" --
The volunteers at the senior center vaccine parking lot, Six months without a barber and --
After all, it is irrational to be afraid of mold, which will come unless you eat the fruit --
Walking in a spring rain --
As in chess and other games... --
Sometimes God is when strangers touch --
When my daughter heard the story of Oedipus --
There is a house somewhere --
I read somewhere that your cuts heal faster when you are in love and today --
Talking things over, we looked up and saw --
I, on top of you, looking at your face, and --
In the place where you were born --
I learned that quarantine meant 40 days and now it's day 400 --
"What the earth does well" --
