Poems of the Week

Bullet Points

by Nora Jay

“NRA suing New York for deeming gun stores non-essential businesses during coronavirus pandemic”
CNN

When the great Recording Angel
Notes the horrors of today
In the box that’s marked NO CHANGE’ll
Shine the mighty NRA.

Though we others now are doing
What before we’d never done,
Wayne LaPierre continues suing
For the honor of the gun.

It’s a vision to inspire us:
Life may change, but this does not.
Even those who catch the virus
Are entitled to get shot.

Do Not In Jest

by Alex Steelsmith

“Public warned not to mistake a type of chloroquine used to clean fish tanks as a possible anti-Covid 19 drug”
The San Diego Union-Tribune

Druggity buggity
Chloroquine (Aralen)
works for malaria;
Covid, we wish.

Gulping a treatment for
ichthy-aquaria
brings up a whole different
kettle of fish.

Forsythia

by Bruce Bennett

The yellow flowers are coming out
the way they always do.
The season never was in doubt,
and everything is new.

So let’s forget what weighs us down,
at least a little while.
The yellow flowers are coming out.
Come on. You too. A smile.

Come on. It’s easy. I won’t tell.
Just do it now for me.
Don’t hide back somewhere in your shell.
Please! Nobody will see,

And even if they do, so what?
They ought to smile too.
See? See? The flowers are coming out
the way they always do.

A Quarantine Song

by Norman Williams

(My bad, Yeats)

Wine comes in at the mouth,
And covid comes in at the nose.
That’s all we shall know for truth
While Trump twitters and crows.
I raise my glass to my lips;
The market hits new lows.

A New Stripe

by Pat D’Amico

The beauty salons have been shuttered for weeks;
No color, no highlights, no bright purple streaks.
The law of the land will allow no disputes
So ladies, we’re all going back to our roots.

Wash Everything

by J.P. Celia

Wash the counters. Wash the floors.
Wash the china on display.
Wash the TVs and the doors;
Focus on the knobs, OK?

Wash the infant. Wash the cat.
Wash the spouses, her or him.
Dunk the in-laws in a vat
Filled with caustic to the brim.

Wash your liver and your spleen.
Wash your innards; wash them all.
Rub each molecule and gene
With a squirt of ethanol.

Wash the scummy garden pond.
Wash the forest’s buggy face.
Wash the cloudlets and beyond.
Scrub the oil spill of space.

Wash your laughter. If you weep,
Disinfect each liquid jewel.
Wash your eyelids if you sleep.
Dreams are dirty. So is drool.

Wash these stanzas. Do it quick.
Verse is viral, bad or good.
Poems sicken and make sick.
God, I hope you’ve understood.

Nuclear Family

by Julia Griffin

“Fossil hunters find evidence of 555m-year-old human relative:
Ikaria wariootia is half the size of a grain of rice and an early example of a bilateral organism …
The researchers say the diminutive creatures are one of the earliest examples of a bilateral organism—animals with features including a front and a back, a plane of symmetry that results in a left and a right side, and often a gut that opens at each end. Humans, pigs, spiders and butterflies are all bilaterians, but creatures such as jellyfish are not.”
—The Guardian

These days when all is virtual and virusy,
And nothing’s even notionally nice,
I’m taking some vicarious
Delight in these Ikarias:
My kin, the size of half a grain of rice.

They all possess a tiny plane of symmetry,
And open at each end for you know what;
I find these Wariootias
Bilaterally beauteous!—
As creatures such as jelly fish are not.

The New Neanderthal

by Nora Jay

“Cave find shows Neanderthals collected seafood, scientists say…
‘Forget about this Hollywood-like image of the Neanderthal as this half-naked primitive
that roamed the steppe tundra of northern Europe hunting for mammoths and other megafauna with poor and inefficient weapons,’ said [an expert]. ‘The real Neanderthal is the Neanderthal who is in southern Europe.’”

—The Guardian

With so much else to sacrifice, one thing I never shall:
This Hollywood-like image of the crude Neanderthal,
Who roamed the steppe half-covered (by the Board of Censors’ rules),
Pursuing megafauna with his inefficient tools.
So now we’re asked to think of him sashaying down the shore,
Designing dainty meals of moules and Lobster Thermidor?
This rugged, macho primitive, adored by MGM,
Is now a clever sissy, downing crayfish à la crème?
That thought I’m trying to forget, so don’t remind me, pal.
Meanwhile, the real Neanderthal’s a real Neanderthal.

Dan Patrick and Glenn Beck Volunteer for a Suicide Mission

by Chris O’Carroll

Suddenly they love the children.
Right-wing oldsters want to die
For the younger generations.
That’s so sweet. I wonder why?

When kids march against a threat like
Climate change or shooting sprees,
They’re just punks who hate our nation,
Every Fox News fan agrees.

Now, though, time to save the children
(And Wall Street) from deadly harm.
Old conservatives are rolling
Up their sleeves to buy the farm.

Multi-Million-Mile Mend

by David Hedges

“NASA fixes ‘stuck’ InSight Mars lander by ‘telling it to hit itself with shovel’”
The U.S. Sun

NASA’s InSight lander shows
What every scientist now knows:
The planet Mars is not as dead
As they suspected once. Instead,

Seismometers reveal it shakes
The way Earth does. (They’re called Marsquakes.)
Some nifty onboard sensors track
Its gale-force winds and transmit back

To Earth the daily pressure range,
As well as how the seasons change.
One gauge, however, had bad luck:
The lander’s digging probe got stuck.

It may have been a wayward rock
That caused the unexpected block.
The rod-shaped digger, dubbed “the mole,”
Refused to dig a simple hole,

Denying scientists a clue
To how the planet looked when new.
They figured they would have to bore
Down deep to find how hot the core

Was. Anyway, that’s what they planned.
They built the rod to slide through sand,
But heavy dirt was what they found.
Their resolution was profound:

They asked a farmer, and he said,
“Just knock the mole upside the head.”
It took a year, and lots of skill,
But finally they freed the drill.

The Sound of Clean Hands Clapping

by Dan Campion

The straight-faced Covid lineup stands
At Our Dear Leader’s back,
Guts twisting into ampersands
At each new bold attack

The Genius makes on truth, the facts,
Best practices, and reason,
Alert that if their brow contracts
He’ll have them tried for treason.

Then, “Thank you, Mr. President,”
One or another says,
While stepping up, by angels sent,
To part The Boss’s haze.

Amid the national agony
And general irritation,
Dear Task Force, for the grit we see:
Our pure, spaced-out ovation!

Lemurmurs

by Ruth S. Baker

“Twin ring-tailed lemurs born at Chester zoo…
The twins are 15cm (6in) tall and weigh just a few hundred grams, described as being ‘no bigger than tennis balls with [‘iconic black and white’] tails’.”
—The Guardian

This week, two ring-tailed lemurs
Were born in Chester Zoo.
Two tiny, two-tone screamers
This week, two ring-tailed lemurs,
With less than four-inch femurs,
Were born. You ask what’s new
This week? Two ring-tailed lemurs
Were born in Chester Zoo.

Song in a Time of Coronavirus

by Bruce Bennett

Tra la Tra la
Go wash your hands.
Don’t touch your face.
If someone stands

Too near, report them.
Sweet birds sing.
Keep windows open.
Happy Spring!

Disbarred

by Brian Allgar

This damned Coronavirus gets me down!
The pubs and bars are closed all over town.
There must be one still open! Let me think …
To do that, though, I really need a drink.