by Eddie Aderne
“Adopt a Bison!”
—Email from the National Wildlife Federation
These weeks I’ve found a lot to take advice on—
French cooking, dressing up as works of art—
But my decision’s to adopt a bison,
And so I’ve put one in my online cart.
At first perhaps I’ll be obliged to crate him
Until domestic rules are understood,
But very soon I plan to educate him
As any conscientious parent should.
With all these new accomplishments I’m learning
His eager mind will be profusely fed.
His tastes will be wide-ranging but discerning,
As suits a youthful, modern quadruped;
He’ll rate the art of Tin Tin and of Titian,
The words of Süsskind and of Dr. Seuss;
In politics he’ll take a poised position,
Not like some loud, opinionated moose.
The plan’s complete: I’m ready to adopt him—
Once this piano’s fixed for hooves, it’s done!
I know I’ll be delighted to have copped him.
Let me present: my highbrow bison son.
by Jerome Betts
“The Chinese government has signalled an end
to the human consumption of dogs . . . between
10 and 20 million dogs are killed in China for
their meat annually, while Animals Asia puts
the figure for cats at around 4 million per year.”
—The Guardian
Good news for the Peke and the chow
If not bullock, lamb, chicken, boar, sow.
Serving roast sides of Rover
May well soon be over . . .
But what about beasts that meow?
by Chris O’Carroll
You’ve counted on us for inebriation,
Now raise a toast to our participation
In efforts at pandemic mitigation.
(Just don’t mistake this stuff for a libation.)
by Nora Jay
“Death, destruction, ruin and decay!”
—Every media outlet everywhere, every day
Our correspondent Walter Wall
Does not desire to cast a pall,
But needs incessantly to speak.
The thing has not yet reached its peak;
It’s getting worse from day to day,
And will beyond the end of May.
No symptoms? Don’t go seeking credit;
It’s attitudes like this that spread it,
So lock your doors, and risk perforce
Depression, bankruptcy, divorce,
Addiction and infanticide.
The world’s at one; you cannot hide.
Stand with the facts, or sit and cower
Beneath this never-ending shower
From experts, buffs, and cognoscenti.
Up Next, Exclusive: COVID-20.
by Julia Griffin
Not for the grand politicos, with room to keep their distance,
Who haggle over ways to come to billionnaires’ assistance,
But for the half-paid cooks who fill their daily online orders,
And all the late-night cleaners with relations at the borders.
Not for the big employers, Mr. Gates and Mr. Bezos,
With half the world’s economy dependent on their say-sos,
But for the purchase-processors who find the goods and sort them,
The truckers and the mailers who must lift them and transport them.
Not for the big insurers with their minds on graphs and vectors,
But for the nursing orderlies and sickroom disinfectors.
Not for myself, new on-line Prof (compelled by others’ prudence),
But for the food-store checkout staff (who now include my students).
by Mark F. Stone
The State took a stand that we practice techniques
to maintain our distance and clean till it squeaks.
But can such a stance
bring a halt to romance?
Perchance we’ll know more in about forty weeks.
by Jenna Le
My favorite kind of mask is clear:
the sort with loops around each ear.
It stays in place without relying
on knots at risk of self-untying
and has no pesky sideways cord
to gouge a groove into one’s gourd,
to bunch one’s hair into a hill,
or slither north and south at will.
My sis prefers another type:
when strings weigh on her ears, she’ll gripe.
She’s partial to a mint-green hue,
while I like my face masks sky-blue.
As for my mom, she scratched her head
to see masks candy-striped in red,
believing cool-toned masks would be
endowed with more solemnity.
A guy I met once at the gym
opines the thing that bothers him
is masks’ faint antiseptic scent.
“That’s how good health smells,” I dissent.
To think some people didn’t know
their tastes in masks just weeks ago!
by Dan Campion
“Illinois governor: Federal government sent wrong type of masks”
—The Hill
Our staunch Lone Ranger just received
Ten crates of Batman masks;
No masks for her, Catwoman’s grieved.
Where’s mine? the Phantom asks.
Hamburglar’s wrapped in Mummy gauze,
The Hulk wears gray Carrara,
While Wonder Woman’s sporting claws
And Wolfman her tiara.
Clark Kent’s decked out as Supergirl.
Check out Spock’s ears on Kirk!
It’s costume business Tilt-A-Whirl:
Your Government at work.
by David Hedges
The Don denounces vote-by-mail,
Believing it’s a vicious plot
To guarantee that Ds prevail.
The gerrymander won’t mean squat—
And what about suppression laws
That Rs worked years to put in place?
Dear Leader fears he’ll hear guffaws
If voters toss him on his face.
by Susan Jarvis Bryant
“Don’t Nag Your Husband During Lockdown,
Malaysia’s Government Advises Women”
—NPR
(to the tune of “My Favorite Things”
from The Sound of Music)
Face days with grace
and embrace patriarchy.
Keep chatter perky and never get snarky.
Buff up your halo and fluff up your wings.
Don’t get a knot in your old apron strings.
Pucker and pout
in a slick of pink lipstick.
Cheer him with charm when he acts like a dipstick.
Wear something foxy in fabric that clings.
Don’t get a knot in your old apron strings.
Bake lychee pie
In your sky-high stilettos.
When he makes choices make sure your voice echoes.
Quell bile and temper and monthly mood swings.
Don’t get a knot in your old apron strings.
When he talks tosh,
when his ire stings,
when his ramblings drag—
remember, don’t tangle your old apron strings
and purge the pained urge to nag!
by Jerome Betts
“With locals in lockdown, as many as 122 Kashmiri goats
have ventured into Llandudno, North Wales, from nearby
Great Orme…”
—iNews
A gang of Great Orme-grazing goats
In luxuriant white cashmere coats
Bless Llandudno’s insistence
On correct social distance
As its garden-greens slip down their throats.
by Ruth S. Baker
“New Zealand zoos strive to entertain lonely inhabitants amid lockdown…
Rhinos keep turning up for their belly rubs, and giraffes have been keeping their [“meet the public”] appointments, but there is no one to watch them”
—The Guardian
The public, scared by virus-graphs,
Stay home and watch their tellies;
Who then can meet the poor giraffes,
Or rub the rhinos’ bellies?
Activities are all indoor
Throughout the nervous nation;
Meanwhile the beasts are pining for
Some human conversation.
The keepers now are on their own
(In line with Health Compliance):
They walk the llamas, spray cologne
To stimulate the lions,
Set puzzles for the kea birds,
Pay visits to the otters,
And shunt around the dairy herds;
And yet morale still totters.
The lonely meerkat mopes, morose;
The dingo’s all downhearted;
Gorillas, glad? Not even close.
The snakes? Don’t get me started.
What panzootic glumness this
Calamity unleashes!
All these amazing species miss
Our own amazing species.
by Bryan Hendrix
Wash your hands and keep your distance!
Join the Army of Resistance!
(Hope you’ll pardon my insistence
But I’m fond of my existence.)
Back off, Jack, and scrub those fingers!
Make sure no vile virus lingers!
Block your coughs, you droplet slingers!
Hail the toilet paper bringers!
Congregating is a blunder!
(Do they think that germs, I wonder,
Are exempting heads of dunder?)
Six away beats six feet under!
I hope everyone shares my goals
(We must all aspire to high goals):
Keep your fingers from your eye holes
And your nostrils and your pie holes!
And take heart! You’re in detention
But your mission’s the prevention
Of my premature ascension!
Thank you for your kind attention.
by J.P. Celia
We thought it just another scare
Cooked up by newsmen on the air.
“Be careful, folks. You could be next,”
They told us daily, clearly vexed.
How often had they sung this song?
Provoked our fear, and then been wrong?
We shrugged our shoulders, went to bed,
Quite unpersuaded we’d be dead.
We saw the numbers, saw the graph.
We rolled our eyes. We had a laugh.
We met all warnings with a scoff,
And only stopped our scorn to cough.
by Erika Fine
(self-isolating in Massachusetts)
My friends say, “Do yoga online!”
Instead I lie prone and drink wine.
“Do tap or ballet on your phone!”
Instead I drink wine and lie prone.
