Coronavirus XXVI

I walk by the bay
this fine Holy Saturday.
Bright clouds in array

reach the horizon.
Yards whistle going nowhere. Our
God visits Hell for

us, lowest and least,
poor, sick, old, damned by

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 XXVI”

  1. The poem turns on the tensions of the seemingly disposable and all but meaningless contingencies of everyday life e thrown into stark relief by the tragedy of epidemic and the story of the Harrowing of Hell,. THre whistling of the yards the poet notices bring alive for the reader the empotiness and yet not qutie emptiness of the wierdly quiet world of coronavirus. Yet for all the quiet and the unseen pain the i,klumined clouds show us taht matter remains very good, that truth most fully experienced in our integrated bodies, souls, and minds as we get outside our heads in collectively taking part in the ritual that goes beyond individual persons and places while engageing them and opening them. the reader coems through the poem to realize that she can and must reread the poem and travel wtih it beyond itself.


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