2 Poems

The farmer told me there were

sharks in the wheat field—so I cried.

Still I played with a red dress in black woods

though the new stories had real wolves there.

There has to be something between a monster

under the bed and the creature in the middle distance

where I can feel safe to rest my head

and close my eyes one at a time.

When I disappeared, newspapers called me drowned

but I was in that wheat field—

flailing arms punching out,

fighting and cursing all I couldn’t see.

Does today look like any other day?

Can you see the horizon?

Are sirens sounding in the distance?

Is the horizon red with blood?

Have you replaced framed pictures of your loved ones?

Did you replace them with new gods?

Have you sheltered in place?

Has your shelter been destroyed by climate change?

Did you make peace with what you couldn’t change?

Has what-you-could-change-but-didn’t caught up to you?

Did you notify your next-of-kin?

Do you have a mask to prevent the spreading of disease?

Are you considered the disease?

Can you hide your face sufficiently with a mask?

Can you see the horizon over the mask?

Can you hide your identity with said mask?

Did you delete your notions of privacy long ago?

Can you blink in Morse code?

Did you scream into the void?

Did the void scream it back?

Did you do the Hokey Pokey?

Have you turned yourself around?

Do you see a table?

Did you come to the table willingly?

Did others tie you to the table for The Ritual?

Have you smashed some throats in?

Have you had your throat smashed in?

Have you alerted the police?

Did the police turn against you?

Have you become the police to survive?

Has the power gone out?

Have you planned for power alternatives?

Is power within your grasp?

Does your reach exceed it?

Does today look like any other day?

Have you lost hope?

Have you lost the idea of hope?

Have you grown up?

Have you given up?

If you gave up, can you rally?