Jennifer Smith Turner

Death by Pandemic

Jennifer Smith Turner |

Lonely rectangles
Squeeze our souls
Stacked one on top of another
Slid into moveable vessels
Stationary now

Filled with us
The new interstate cargo
Rooted to this spot
No place to go

Or left to sit at the altar
Replace pews of worship
For logs of sorrow
Alone
Alone

We hear your tears
Drift silently
Through shields that
Did not protect us
May not protect you

poem
 

 

 

Revving It Up In the Slow Lane

Jennifer Smith Turner
What do you do? This is the question we have been asked by family, friends and strangers alike for the past year ever since we became full-time Islanders or, rather, washashores.
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