Arts Alive San Antonio

The author of today’s poem, Edward Vidaurre, is the author of seven poetry collections and the McAllen poet laureate 2018-2019.

Pandemic Phlegm
By Edward Vidaurre

A year in gridlock
Stuck, like trying to run in a dream
Paralyzed, a year-long congestion of the soul

I dreamed I kept punching a 45-year-old man
And his face was bloody and my fists were raw
But my knuckles still had layers of struggle I had to remove
But the blood flowed like molasses and my hands weighed as if 
I were holding up an ocean and all its existence

Being awake was no different
A pandemic phlegm 
a glimpse of defeat  
a screaming lining of 
unanswered prayers to 
a god that has abandoned 
my calls late at night
still counting to a million

We see people in line at the coagulated supermarkets
Their lipmasks moving and grunting complaints
Making life and death political
Making politics about life and death
In Wisconsin 500 vaccines are left out to spoil
In hospitals blood oxygen levels drop
In restaurants employees never knew lockdowns
So many dead, no funerals to attend, no flowers
No memory of last breaths, dying in solace, what horror

Poets are writing poems and tossing them into the air
With delicate spirit-like care

Where they land
May they heal
May they heal
May they heal