Distancing

Exploring and navigating the distance between us.

distancing

ten friends drift through the snow

in taylor park, waltzing wild but wary

ten nurses sit safe in a cafeteria -

when I approach they pivot away

dissolving and re-forming in another spot

so they won’t become an incautious caucus 

of eleven. the new rules of gathering.

i skirt a group of ladies in a lane, about ten 

of them, bottom-heavy, tapering upward 

like bowling pins waiting to fall.

ten is the number of years my father 

has not been alive, every minute

distancing me from his flimsy frame 

the shattered stare - i am puzzlingly 

worried about his health and whether 

six feet of dirt and four inches of walnut 

is enough buffer. i should be watching 

over him, a masked sentinel silent as the 

platoon of granite slabs scattering away 

over the ridge in concordia cemetery.

i miss the sound of my mother slicing

fruit. she is zip-locked in a senior

care wing no air in or out. mother, you

are no match for this, wait until you hear 

summer’s song. daughter, reach out and 

touch my face on your liquid crystal display,

i feel you, i guard you through our cells.

brother, i’m looking across kenilworth 

at your house, every light blazing 

against the unknown.

hope is the jangle of wind chimes behind

closed blinds, carts rumbling tuesdays 

to the curb bearing our remains,

leather clad hands leaving cartons of

fish food and phish food on a porch…..

but let’s not think about fish (our amphibious

ancestors). or backsliding into a lower 

phylum. or becoming gatherings of 

ten newts - ten salamanders - slithering 

down thatcher towards the lagoon.

tim f. nichols 

3.25.20

Author's Note

This is what came out while I was shut in. Comments and kindness welcome.

Reviews

[Lea Sheryn]

Being shut in is a great time to get the creative juices flowing.