Coronavirus XVI

Is it old age or
the coronavirus that
makes my mind hover

over uncertainties
like an orchestra at a
fermata? Please hold

the delicacy
of our first kiss at the door
a shade longer, thanks.

Author: Tom D'Evelyn

Tom D'Evelyn is a private editor and writing tutor in Cranston RI and, thanks to the web, across the US and in the UK. He can be reached at D'Evelyn has a PhD in Comparative Literature from UC Berkeley. Before retiring he held positions at The Christian Science Monitor, Harvard University Press, Boston University and Brown University. He ran a literary agency for ten years, publishing books by Leonard Nathan and Arthur Quinn, among others. Before moving to Portland OR he was managing editor at Single Island Press, Portsmouth NH. He blogs at and other sites.

One thought on “Coronavirus XVI”

  1. This poem embodies the finesse of finitude, the way we as beings both limited and gifted with specific and changing physical poers and feelings live and move. The final line opens the poem’s reverie on age and contingency–Coronavirus the new ever-present threat–in a polyvocal address, a call at once to the Muse, the poe’s beloved, and inidrectly to the reader, which is simultansuously heart-felt and light-hearted, fell of yearning, the pleasure of memory, and the longing of entreaty. The poem itself becomes a sort of prayer of entreaty, in these strange times perhaps one of the most strangely appriorpiate ways of speaking.


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