Monday, June 15, 2020

Nancy Agabian's contribution to our Call for Poems on the topic of epidemics, illness, medicine, death and healing

Nancy Agabian of East Walpole, MA, USA has shared her original poem. APP thanks her.

Into the Needle

If the virus doesn't ever go away
            or worse, worsens, what will I do?
            I don't let my mind go there. I stay close
            to the day, the hour, the minute,
            the present, I sew a mask, stitch
            by stitch, the prick of the needle,
            a small dash of thread, one moment
            into another, a thought leading
            to the next--

Sometimes I let myself imagine a
            new year, a new home, a new
            line of work. Surroundings change
            and I'm the same, my body superimposed
            on a background like Colorforms,
            a toy from childhood. The real magic:
            the way two surfaces stick together
            without glue, an object peeled and fixed
            onto a picture, belonging, temporarily.

I know life's not this smooth,
            like glass, like the surface of a still pond.
            It's rough and ragged, jagged
            as a mountain no one has ever
            seen before. I must train to
            scale this passage, but perhaps I am
            building new muscles, however
            slight: a shift of the eye, a snip of thread

            cut square, a breath in, and out, of care.

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