by Ruth S. Baker

“[P]ig starts farm fire by excreting pedometer …
The North Yorkshire fire and rescue service said the fire was caused by ‘nature taking its course’
and copper from the pedometer battery reacting with dry hay and the pigpen’s contents.
The pedometer was being used to prove the animal was free range
and had been taken off one of its fellow pigs.
No animals were harmed as a result of the fire.” 
—The Guardian

According to North Yorkshire’s rescue force,
The fire was caused when nature took its course:
Pedometers, it seems, light up like cigs
When defecated by unwary pigs.

Although the beast met no impediment
While voiding pedometric excrement,
It proved that ranging freely may be trouble,
And that pedometers are execrable.

by Gail White

I was dreaming of gelato.
“More sambuca!” was my motto.
Now, because of travel strictures
I’ve torn up my passport pictures—
Tiramisu, how I’ll miss you—
Italy’s shut down.

Deeply I deplore the menace
of a virus haunting Venice,
and the thought of shuttered Florence
fills me with a deep abhorrence.
Influenza stalks Pienza,
once my favorite town.

Every canceled Tuscan city
adds to my extreme self-pity,
as from Rome to Lampedusa
all the country is chiusa.*
Now I mope and have no hope.
I cannot cope
When Italy shuts down.

*closed

by Jerome Betts

“Disneyland has closed parks in
California, Florida and Paris.”
—The Guardian

Yes, Pluto’s not all there, poor mutt,
His wits, like Goofy’s, on the roam.
Old Bambi’s useless come the rut
While Snow White’s in a nursing home.

The mouse can hardly raise a squeak
And Donald D. is far from spry,
His apoplectic pride and pique
Long lost to Anno Domini.

The call is now “Self-isolate!
C-virus most endangers those
Surviving past their sell-by date”—
So even Disney’s world must close.

by Dan Campion

“NBA Suspends Season Until Further Notice…”
—Sports Illustrated

When nursing homes must be locked down
And schools are closed, and ports,
The markets tank, health experts frown,
The rich flock to resorts,

The nation blinks. When does it groan?
When illness hammers sports.
That’s when there’s woe on every phone:
No crowds can fill the courts,

And frantic fans must stay at home!
The land’s grabbed by the shorts.
The crisis hits each field and dome.
A bug is killing SPORTS!

The president must ask for calm
And bailouts of all sorts:
The nation needs the sovereign’s balm.
Alas, it lacks for sports.

by Steve Taylor

For once the poetry feels dangerous.
The readers hesitate to handle it,
and if they pick it up, they feel a nervous
urge to wash, fearing what the words transmit.
For once all conversations have an edge
even ambitious groveling cannot dull.
No need for sucking up or trying to wedge
oneself into a more exclusive circle.
Behind our masks, we seem anonymous,
as if we now hate to be recognized,
and posturing becomes more obvious
when focused on each other’s shifty eyes.
You’ve made us more alert to eye rolls
and made us wish, for once, not to go viral.

by Nora Jay

“Max von Sydow, star of The Seventh Seal …, dies aged 90 …
He also brought immense presence and gravity to roles such as Jesus Christ
in The Greatest Story Ever Told (1965), a doomed priest in William Friedkin’s
The Exorcist, and an intellectually snobbish artist in Woody Allen’s
Hannah and Her Sisters (1986).”
—The Guardian

Let us this week remember Max von Sydow,
Who brought the gravity that fits a credo
To roles like Jesus Christ, an Exorcister,
And Hannah’s in-law-loving Sister’s Mister.
His game of chess with Death was gravely splendid.
This has identically now re-ended.

by Julia Griffin

“A diamond tiara that once belonged to one of Britain’s most extravagant aristocrats
is up for sale on Saturday at a prestigious European art fair.
The Anglesey Tiara was at one time owned by Henry Cyril Paget—fifth Marquess of Anglesey.…
The fourth marquess left the 20-something Paget an estate worth £535,000—
equivalent to about £60m today. …
[He] became known as ‘The Dancing Marquess’ by the newspaper gossip sheets. …
[I]n the space of just over five years, [he] had blown the lot, been declared bankrupt,
and died from complications of tuberculosis in Monte Carlo.
He told a French journalist: ‘In six years, I have run through that fortune, just how—I could not tell you.’ …
He was just 29.”
—BBC News

He had a fleet of poodles;
His motors ran on scent;
Of jewels, he had oodles,
Draped over him like noodles.
Who knew how much he spent?

Not he. His self-aimed bounty
Might daily have financed
The budget of a county;
He let it mount and mount. He
Dropped diamonds as he danced.

Man spends, the bank disposes;
He crashed at twenty-nine,
And died (tuberculosis).
His kin came in with hoses,
Purell, and turpentine,

And set to work. Embittered?
They must have felt bereft;
They’d lost the wealth he’d frittered
On all that barked and glittered.
So no real trace is left;

But you who sense romance in
The shades of Anglesey
Might glimpse, if you should glance in,
The twinkle of a dance in
A marquessal marquee.

by Ruth S. Baker

“Tito’s warns customers: Vodka is not a safe hand sanitizer”
—UPI

Our customers inquire: for sanitizing,
Is Vodka safe? Our word to them is Nope.
Coincidentally, we’re not advising
Concocting Bloody Marys out of soap.

by Bruce Bennett

“… Even bathroom odors and FLATULENCE
are a means of transmission.”**
—an email ad by Dr. Gil Mobley, “physician
and microbiologist”

You thought it was bad, but it’s worse than you thought.
It turns out that COVID- 19 can be caught
if you’re too close to someone and just get a whiff.
So, be on your guard, and FOR GOD’S SAKE, DON’T SNIFF!

Stay out of all bathrooms. Avoid every crowd.
There’s always the chance that the sound won’t be loud.
The virus will get you, and then you will croak,
and Silent But Deadly will not be a joke!

**Editors’ note: We’ve found no scientific literature that supports this claim.

by Susan McLean

at the American Academy in Rome

I’d booked my flight to Italy;
the world was mine to roam.
But now I rue it bitterly
while Romans all stay home.

I thought I’d tour the sights a bit:
all Rome would be my oyster.
But then coronavirus hit,
and now the world’s my cloister.

My nagging sense of menace has
a rapid downward spiral,
replaying Death in Venice as
my holiday goes viral.

by Alex Steelsmith

Piggledy giggledy,
Bloomberg the Billionaire
stood on his toes (not a
box) to report

all of his efforts to
undemocratically
buy the election were
coming up short.

by Donald Wheelock

A cantankerous, Federalist star
thought the president some kind of czar,
thus empowering Trump
who’s again on the stump:
It’s time to disbar William Barr.

by Julia Griffin

“Happy Women’s History Month!”
—Email received from Liveyourdream.org

This is a month for feeling blithe and sistery—
A little envious, perhaps, but joyful too:
This month we honor Happy Women’s History;
At last those Happy Women get their due

Now’s not the time for Sylvia or Assia,
Virginia, or Marie Antoinette;
The mood this March is cheerier and sassier,
But also calmer. Not the suffragette,

Like Mrs. Pankhurst, chained against a railing,
Or Joan of Arc, or Mary Queen of Scots;
Let’s praise those gals whose lives were plainer sailing,
On crystal seas, in well-appointed yachts.

Glad Women, thanks! Imagining the fun of you
Brightens my days with something like good cheer;
And if I knew the name of even one of you,
Or anything you did, I’d blaze it here.

by Dan Campion

“Please Put Calamity on Hold. Style Is on the Line.”
—New York Times National Print Edition

Please put calamity on hold,
For Style is on the line.
It’s Paris Fashion Week. Be bold!
Come worship high design:

Bouclés and taffetas, tall boots,
Hot pants and bandeau tops—
What makes a world? Hot photo shoots.
A skinny glass of schnapps.

Don’t phone it in, then. Make the scene;
The cure for every blight,
With cavalcades of sylphs serene,
Couture will set you right.

by Erika Fine

Hiding in the undecided mind,
Biden staged a comeback from behind.
Bernie’s engine lost a little steam.
Warren’s chances faded to a dream.
Pete and Amy stopped their silly spat,
Bowing out and helping Joe combat
The surging leftist faction they all fear
Will catalyze a win for Trump this year.
Bloomberg’s words were graceful in goodbye—
Five hundred million’s not, for him, so high.
His hefty wallet now will go to Biden
In hopes that Joe’s new dominance will widen.
They all agree on one objective, though:
To save our nation, Donald Trump must go!