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August 08, 2022

Covid-19, Week 11 -- A Dream

By Judith Alexander Brice

Covid-19, Week 11 -- A Dream

I need to call my mother in Manhattan, or visit
at her apartment on 85th and third --.
I see the buildings, and rivers that surround
those busy avenues, north and south --
congested skinny streets, east and west.

It's just a matter of going east, I think,
before you cross the street and then,
after you pass a bank, take the elevator up;
you're sure to arrive at the most wholesome family
love, with all the best answers on how to live.

I want to ask my mother how to navigate
around this deadly obstacle I cannot see. Yet, when I
telephone before I go, I get her answering machine --
The person whom you're trying to call has moved away,
perhaps now living below the ground, or up in heaven
if you can imagine her there ... cavorting with
all the other dead!


But no, I tell the machine. I want you to hear.
I need instructions, a direction to go. It's urgent, I repeat.
You're not catching what I say. I need
to know how to retreat from life, my classes --
how to stay away from my neighbors,
never read the map of their faces, or
share with them my smile.






Article © Judith Alexander Brice. All rights reserved.
Published on 2020-11-02
Image(s) are public domain.
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