I remember my normal life

Pandemic Poetry

I remember my normal life,
the ease and malaise of it,
the somber saunter of routine.

Those were the days before Death
revealed himself to be
more than a shadow being swallowed

in the gathering pools of the dusk,
a toothy tattoo artist
pressing his smile against the curtain,

writing his name in everyone’s skin.
I remember the comfort
of alarm clocks, of time clocks,

a quiet stirring of flesh
from the mere thought of a touch,
the way voices rise and fall

or get lost in the noise of a restaurant,
the jangle and clatter of plates
being stacked, clinking glass and silver,

hands moving like animated orchids,
communicating the subtleties
of emotive response in syncopated rhythms

with the irises of the eyes,
every interaction its own symphony,
its own mathematical equation solving itself.

I remember concerts, theaters, sports,
and the roar of applause,
like giant waves cresting outcroppings of rocks,

I remember returning,
the scampering feet of my dog,
his tail swishing wild from side to side,

a happiness so earnest and barely contained,
and I miss seeing him that way,
I miss the welcoming smell of home,

vanilla and lavender, drained dishwater,
lingering hint of coffee beans,
new carpet warmed by the sun,

and I wonder until I lose my place,
these memories of normalcy
that seem more and more like a dream

of another life I never lived,
or if I did I know
normal is a bird that once flown, never returns.

_________

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