(Quarantine Poem #1)

 by Barbara Brauer

Sheltering in Place
Something stops –
holds me at the threshold
            of the morning, spring sun barging in like an in-law,
            of the afternoon, the sag, the flagging energy,
            of the evening when the lightlessness
having gathered hour by slow hour
has dimmed the living room lamp,
dimmed my thought, until only dark
Something happens –
I can’t take another step –
Something leans in and whispers
            All useless
            All gone.
Something happens at the threshold
Stops the –
blocks the –
so I can’t –
Please let me hear from you!
Send me an email,
tell me the password,
slip me the code to reboot.

Poet biography:
Barbara is a freelance editor living in San Geronimo, California, and the author of two poetry collections from Sixteen Rivers Press: Rain, Like a Thief (2019) and At Ease in the Borrowed World (2013). Her poems have appeared in journals, anthologies, and art exhibitions. With portrait artist Jackie Kirk, she is co-author of the nonfiction book, Witness: The Artist’s Vision in The Face of AIDS.

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