Robin Stratton is the author of four novels, including one which was a National Indie Excellence Book Award finalist (On Air, Mustang Press, 2011), two collections of poetry and short fiction, a memoir in poetry form, and a writing guide. A four-time Pushcart Prize nominee, she's been published in Word Riot, 63 Channels, Antithesis Common, Poor Richard’s Almanac(k), Blink-Ink, Pig in a Poke, Chick Flicks, Up the Staircase, Shoots and Vines, and many others. Since 2004 she's been Acquisitions Editor for Big Table Publishing Company, Senior Editor of Boston Literary Magazine since 2009, and she was Director of the Newton Writing and Publishing Center until she moved from Boston to San Francisco in 2018. Now she leads the popular "Six Feet of Poetry" and "Fiction by the Foot" series.
AFTER THE VIRUS
After you finally stop thinking this
is no worse than the regular flu
After your last dinner party when you
didn’t hug hello but you recklessly hugged goodbye
After your last guilt-free non-essential
jaunt to Crate & Barrel
After the last puzzle is done and
the banana bread is gone
After you’ve posted on Facebook the covers of
ten record albums that influenced you most
After you’ve sought recommendations for
movies to watch and books to read
After you’ve accepted that you can’t stay
focused long enough to read a book
After you’ve watched season one of
Gray’s Anatomy again, and also season two
After you post your 40-year old high school graduation picture because
you think that will somehow bring comfort to the class of 2020
After you see that drone shot of
the mass graves in New York City
After you hear that people have 14
days to claim the bodies of their loved ones
After you stop being shocked
After you stop keeping track
After it starts to feel a little normal
After you’re able to go back to reading a book, even if
it’s only a biography of the Bee Gees
After all of that what
will you do and who will you be
After the virus?
Chilled me to the bone, esp the last 2 stanzas which crept up unexpectedly. Please let this 'thing' be some existential hole that we're going to climb out of sooner rather than later. Love to you Robin.
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