She follows the edge
of the bay. Ducks with their heads
under the water,
Coronavirus holds our
collective breath. She
small stones in a small white bag.
She seems to count them.
We all have our things.
The One with no second wan-
ders in everything.
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 email@example.com. 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 http://tdevelyn.com and other sites.
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One thought on “Coronavirus XXIX”
the dialectical movement between singular and plural animages teh poem while the mysetreious ‘she’ draws the reader through the narrative at the level of action and suspense. The final line brings a sudden and welcome release of pleasure, resultiaotn of the narrative tension in an opening to a universal view which simultaneously ‘fits’ with the inveitable rightness of fit.