(lost 13% of my baby)
the littlest one turned three in May,
havenât seen her in the flesh since March,
parents inform, all gone,
theyâll be disappearing
to another state,
all of July, gonzo.
I say
go forth safely, thatâs great.
redefining social distancing.
measured not in feet,
or even by Sara B.âs
borrowed âmany the miles,â
but in longer specificities:
maturities,
weeks and months,
parts of years,
parts of lives,
March, April,
May, June,
now July.
five months.
counted them on one hand,
many times,
at 3:00am
cause I could not believe
the summing of my subtraction
somehow disappeared,
from our calendars
these monthly ** markings,
months wiped clean permanently.
did a quick calculation.
weâve lost 13% of her
entire life,
canât be regained.
her first:
big girl bed,
playing first video game, Â
another birthday party,
candles extinguished by
a single big girl blowing,
dancing, dancing, and more,
driving her scooter in the apartment,
like only a mad woman can,
(stuffed animal riding the handlebars,)
blowing pretend Zooming belly kisses
on her button,
hiding neath the dining room table,
her laughing uproariously,
with never a âstop poppy.â
13%.
a specific amount,
a poem irretrievable,
a blood loss, that
canât be transfused,
plasma irreplaceable,
containing antibodies
to a specific virus
Sorrow Unique-19
nah,
nothing Â
it got nothing
to do with that new forehead
furrow, that slow-suddenly appeared.
nah.
âjust, these are the days...â^
^Van Morrison âThese Are the Days
These are the days of the endless summer
These are the days, the time is now
There is no past, there's only future
There's only here, there's only now...
These are the days now that we must savor
And we must enjoy as we can
These are the days that will last forever
You've got to hold them in your heart.
