by Elizabeth Kerlikowske
I love my Canadian neighbors but…
At least during Covid we could step outside.
I resurrect my masks and wear them now
to water the puzzled garden, get the mail,
drag in the dumpster. Ash on squash leaves
ages them as surely as gray hair. My throat hurts.
Eyes sting and I’m breathing filtered air.
Exhausted squirrels lay in bird baths.
Deer stagger through the yard.
We keep water out for them,
not to breed mosquitos, nosy neighbor!
Sun a muffled peach pit in both skies.
Moon, overcome with particulate matter,
hides her face, throws scarves of stars
over her mouth to filter pernicious smoke.
Just guessing, since we no longer see her.
Elizabeth Kerlikowske’s latest chapbook is Falling Women, with painter Mary Hatch.
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