Love poems in quarantine

One. Early days of quarantine --

What are we folding when we are folding laundry in quarantine? --

Easter poem during plague time (because there is no fake grass to put in your baskets this year, but there is real grass instead) --

Menopause in quarantine --

On homesickness, back when we traveled --

Behold and be-held --

March --

The sun in quarantine --

Regeneration --

Poems and dreams are free --

To Max Ritvo, who once said to me: --

A spider in our bed --

Differences between me and my dog --

Poems are good company --

Three kinds of light --

Two. Poems written after May 25, the day George Floyd was murdered --

White backup singers, June 1 --

Fire sermon --

Separating the laundry, June 6 --

Weekapaug --

For Robyn Tamura --

Whiteness near the Fourth of July 2020 --

Prom, 1989 --

A white lady at a theater cocktail party --

Fires --

Mothers' Day --

An end to apartheid in America --

Three. Haiku, tanta and senryū in quarantine --

Spring --

Crossing --

Love poem to my husband, who fixed the Scotch tape dispenser today --

Poppy anemone --

Was my poetry party a super-spreader? --

Haiku written with my son in March --

When in doubt, count --

Nonessential workers --

Yard --

Sleeping very late --

When I was a child I loved to watch soap bubbles pop in the evening air --

"I lose socks in the" --

Teaching on Zoom --

For Kathleen --

Ambiguity of red --

What day is it? --

Koan --

Sisyphus --

For Elvis Costello, who said to me: --

"I will teach you how" --

Quarantine, day 20 --

"Look out your window:" --

Dog mind --

The woman who was bagging my groceries, when I asked how she was, said: --

A riddle, the answer: live theater --

Trio on Zoom --

I am running out of things to cook --

For my oldest daughter --

And that is enough for now --

"In the city I noticed" --

Swallow --

I read that people who groom more during quarantine are happier and it seems like a chicken-or-egg situation but my friend tells me about foot masks so I buy one --

"When will we ever" --

Midday, and the children come out of their rooms where they have been learning on screens --

Watching the food lines grow in New Jersey --

Quarantine, day 90 --

Remembered poem of a second grader named Patrick, Queens, twenty-five years ago --

Another reason dogs are wise --

The shortest story --

"How holy, that day" --

It used to be very impolite --

Summer --

On a Zoom call, watching my in-laws throw my father-in-law's ashes into the sea --

Remembering a time we could eat oysters together --

While I am on a work Zoom call, my son --

White people make bread while Black and Brown people die in America --

A negative test while the moon rises --

Birthday haiku for Uncle Joe written on Zoom --

This summer --

How white am I? --

My daughter asked me when she was three: --

On time zones --

"My dog rubbed herself" --

Love and mess --

Equal taste --

Coral --

Mediation, day 121 of quarantine --

Polish the stone or the mind --

Walking in the dark --

In Tibet it is said that when --

Watching the bird fly standing still --

Shelter --

Move your pants before the tide comes in --

Time decides --

For Anne's seventy-sixth birthday --

Sunset --

For Tony --

And today all that happened was --

Communion wafer in the night sky --

For Anne --

Night-blooming cereus --

On entitled Brooklyn parents --

For John Cage, who said: --

My dog tries to walk into our old house --

Lawn mowers and Bashō's grass pillow --

You ask me to look in your eyes, and the familiar and unfamiliar rhyme --

If a dead butterfly can still fly, what does that signify? --

Can sea cucumbers be instructive? --

My children are baking bread again --

It was not a day for singing --

Large waves and children --

Immortality through property --

On a walk I saw a snake, a rabbit, and a dead rat --

I am a messy cook and this annoys my husband who is an orderly cook --

I think about patience while I chop mushrooms --

To my children --

This morning --

Today --

What is a child's duty? --

Quarantine in August, the overripe month --

Fall --

Cause and effect --

Meditation, day 207 --

Your body, a temple --

Attempt at holding opposing truths in the mind --

"Don't store your anger" --

A photo from when I was sick --

Waiting for a storm --

A shuttered business --

"There is no cure for" --

Bell's palsy, ten years out --

"Could I live in the" --

Books as food --

Tomorrow and tomorrow and time zones --

An argument --

I wear your sweater for extra warmth --

Is God a who or a what when the world falls apart? --

"Do you have grief to spare?" --

Books don't spread germs --

Block island --

Election day is windy in Rhode Island and the weather report says that --

"I thought it was a mist..." --

Alchemy --

"I was a child of" --

Hungry ghosts --

Winter --

As the days get shorter and shorter --

Today I learned that in kindergarten, a boy named --

"My first love came with" --

Snowstorm --

Again, snow --

Still life --

When I see you again --

"Computers can be" --

"The moon rises just" --

I made two false assumptions looking at a red cardinal --

Tanka, January 6 --

Boiling water isn't mad at the tea --

"This field. This snow. This" --

"Are you studying" --

Mediating outdoors --

Playing card games with others --

Meditation, January 18 --

Meditation, January 19 --

Nap --

Late afternoon --

Lesson from quarantine --

Upon walking --

Winter in Illinois --

A person can be pedantic about anything --

Counting the stars is impossible --

I'm scared of the desk today, so --

"The doors don't quite shut" --

And I was so happy --

"Why is my gaze so" --

Passage from one yard to another --

And all the frozen snow melted today --

I don't know anything about time --

Spring again --

And after all that --

A year since quarantine began --

"I am lucky: when" --

What of my eyes and their infallibility? --

"I no longer know" --

"There are things I must" --

"Instead of writing," --

My glasses sit on the rug --

Scrolling upon waking up --

I have brought my dog with me. Why? --

What is the holy name, you or the Lord? --

After the long winter --

"My dog writes for me" --

Freedom --

Horse racing --

The volunteers at the senior center vaccine parking lot, Six months without a barber and --

Equinox --

Seeing or showing --

Noon --

After all, it is irrational to be afraid of mold, which will come unless you eat the fruit --

Walking in a spring rain --

As in chess and other games... --

For three years I --

Sometimes God is when strangers touch --

Needs --

Changing the locks --

When my daughter heard the story of Oedipus --

"My dog sits zazen" --

I will try to --

There is a house somewhere --

I read somewhere that your cuts heal faster when you are in love and today --

"I want to be a" --

Morning dove --

Talking things over, we looked up and saw --

I, on top of you, looking at your face, and --

In the place where you were born --

Another storm --

"The window is shut" --

I learned that quarantine meant 40 days and now it's day 400 --

"What the earth does well" --

Poem catching --

"Where is the birdcall?"