In the year 2020, man and women are still alive

even giving each other a high five,

Then along came a virus called corona

For some it knew ya.

It was called novel

Many at the feet of CDC did grovel.

You must wear a mask to cover your face

in every business place

Yet the virus continued its pace.

The Governor’s edict included the words: “if able”

A phrase that seems to have been swept under the table.

My body cried out, A mask you require?

Same body without desire

Replied: No I cannot

so a mask will not be bought.

It’s severe claustrophobia

Not Corona

So now I suffer discrimination

for this there is no medication.

Don’t want or need and can’t buy more pills

need to pay other bills.

Am not now or in the past have been sick

This human no virus did pick.

My heart hurts to realize

There is no business I am able to patronize.

Claustrophobia is a definable disease

The code F40-240 can be found with ease.

People with asthma have the same issue

as do allergy sufferers, please hand me a tissue.



Confederate Monuments

A woman with rape-colored skin

offers her body’s light-brown blackness

as a Confederate monument,

America’s story reconsidered.

Her black ancestors, owned by

her white ancestors, built the elegance

of plantations in the Old South,

recreating Camelot

in Tennessee and Virginia.

Now the bronze and stone statues must go,

those monuments that celebrate

power and lust and brutality,

that sugar-coated slavery,

and Jim Crow and its bigotry.

JEFF STAPLES, after Caroline Randall Williams and The New York Times Sunday Review



I hear the church bells ringing

From above the angels are singing

Our world has righted again

We are free

And our prayers of thanks

Rise up to heaven



Echoes of the Boston & Maine

rail trail

relics now frozen in stone

like the trilobites that roamed Permian seas:

bore holes scarring the cuts

moss-covered rings of concrete

where once stood signal towers,

Stonehenge for the Industrial Age.

here a stone foundation

loading ramp? fuel depot?

the granite does not say.

arrow straight these paths

and flat

towering over the swamps

boring single-mindedly through bedrock -

game trails for roaring behemoths

that once bore New Hampshire granite south.

the only tracks here now

left by deer

and moose

and the occasional hiker

and his dog.