Saturday, May 09, 2020

Poem During the Plague: Poem 34

Thomas DeFreitas was born in 1969 in Boston. Alumnus of the Boston Latin School, he attended the University of Massachusetts in both Boston and Amherst for two years all told. His work has appeared in Dappled Things, Ibbetson Street, Muddy River Poetry Review, Plainsongs, and elsewhere. Tom lives in Arlington, Mass., and is a member both of the Bee Hive Poets and the New England Poetry Club.

Day at a Time

Pent-up by fear of what prowls
microscopically through open air,
felling the feeble, rattling the robust,
I pace from corner to corner
of my cluttered two-room flat,
where poems multiply like dust-bunnies,
where worries go viral,
where rumors of wakening leaflife
seep in through drafts
around the bedroom window.

Eager for that happy evening
weeks or months from now
when once more I can hug
the weary fellow members
of my folding-chair fraternity,
serene, courageous, wise,
or trying to be.

Battle-scarred veterans
of long wars against themselves
who brush away self-pity in a newbie
with a gruff "Tough shit, kiddo,
just don't pick up."

I miss the quarts of coffee
brewed with inept enthusiasm,
strong enough to peel paint.

I miss the Oreos and Chips Ahoy.

I miss the truck-drivers
who drop F-bombs
and dangerous women
in knee-high boots
who make the truckers blush.

Sure, there's the laptop screen
bradybunching e-meetings
into our cozy homes.

But I look forward to the day
when I can ride the bus
as it crawls down car-clotted avenues
to get me to the basement
of St Martin's Church
just in time for the moment of silence.

1 comment:

  1. What a good life in words- came up in this now, and in moments of silence.
    Bridget Seley Galway