Life in the Time of COVID-19, Part 32
Today’s poem, “Plasma” is by Eugene “Gene” Novogrodsky, a Brownsville-based poet who writes “slices of the Texas-Mexico border” area, where he has lived for 32-plus years.
Plasma
By Eugene “Gene” Novogrodsky
People waiting to give plasma (Photo: El Paso Times)
Shock!
5:36 a.m., hot, muggy, dark, and there they are:
More than 50 people standing in front of the plasma ($40 an hour drawing) facility,
And, some sitting on the sidewalk, some on benches,
Near shadows, but they are flesh and blood.
Plasma drawing permitted twice a week.
Give, get bandaged, a woozy stumble to the sidewalk,
Druggies, oxy users, drunks, homeless among the normal shadows.
Yet, rent, groceries, utility bills, clothes, shoes, paper towels, chicken, bread
Need the cash – for the yellow white red blobs given…
All walked across the river bridge from Mexico an hour earlier,
Hurrying, even jogging, to get an early appointment…
Settle back, cot firm, needle deep…
Plasma flows and cash trickles…
As the Time of the Virus surges,
The sellers’ desperation surges, too.
Yes, it is a genuine shock to most of us who live the lives of the fortunate and the well-fed through the days of this terrible pandemic. This poem should be made compulsory reading for every elected politician, as every would-be politician.