Poetry

Streets of Salem

The rubber of shoes scrapes against the rugged stone

Steps taken a hundred times over

Sneakers, boots, sandals, and heels

Leaving behind an imprint of dilapidated wonder

Curiosity and awe in every indentation

Each fissure worn down by the new and familiar

The cobblestones of Salem sits

Under the feet of crowds, stalls, and animals

Carrying the weight of what’s to come and what has been

Where will it go next?

New Built on Old

Worn red bricks hinting at archaic overtures

The old peeking out, underneath

Easily overlooked

as passerbyers flock to something better

A culture building dedicated to knowledge

Of Salem full of unique people

Looking closely, an old foundation is revealed

Upon which the ghost sits

Named City Hall

Restoration brought a new existence

The past grasping on to the present

Finding a way to survive

Salem

Salem my home, Salem my city

Salem is where I belong

Nestled in the northshore

Settled next to the sea

Where Samantha rides her broom

Ghosts to see. Witchcraft to do.

Robust restaurants to eat at

Spooky.

Ageless.

Liberating.

Eccentric.

Magical.

The Pain Inside My Heart

That familiar pang

The everlasting hurt from a twisted youth

I was a child. You were the adult.

Debilitating words fell out into my heart

Lazy. Liar. Manipulator. Selfish.

Silent tears carried me to sleep many nights

Self-inflicted scratches scarring agony and anguish into my flesh

That familiar pang

What grudges do you hold?

What pain do you hold?

Why do you take away from me?

Why do you blame me?

That familiar pang

Never celebrated

Sour birthdays

Denied often

Not enough

That familiar pang

All I wanted was to belong

Yet I never did belong

The Constant Anxiety

My skin bursts like ants scurrying away

Poles stretching throughout my body

The cage in my chest locks

I breathe quickly, the air rattles in my lungs

And my heart begs for my attention

Perspiration leaks out

My hands clasping and rubbing over and over and over again

The rollercoaster inside of me

Sends me down into the ground

A statue made out of quicksand

Yet I smile and wave like greeting a familiar friend

Anger

Hot fire rising in my throat

My throat giving way to sound

Sound that is rough

Rough enough to shake

Shake the ugliness of the world

The world with no answers

Answers that don’t exist to my cries

Cries pitching up and down

Down into the heart

The heart hurts and is red

Red like pepper flakes heat

Heat never ending

Created out of chaos

Chaos

Overgrown

Brown. Muddy. Overgrown.

A singular yellow flower

Flat. Low. Disrupted.

High above the weeds

Flood. Broken. Drowned.

Reaches its fragile petals

Graffiti. Cracks. Needles.

Up towards the sun

Desolate. Empty. Closed.

In full wonderful bloom

Tarps. Splinters. Exposed.

Yet alone with no others

COVID

C

O

V

I

D

Covid Coronavirus

A Corrosive contagion metastasizing and crippling

COVID

An overwhelming offense silencing and isolating

Covid

A villainous vagabond demolishing and separating

Covid

An imposing threat condemning and eliciting

Covid

A display of institutional failure being uncovered

PPE

Gowns an ugly shade of yellow like mustard

Tied twice, once behind the neck and once behind the back

Two bright blue medium gloves slipped on, sticking to my skin

As if I am in WWII, I put on my gas mask respirator preparing to enter a gruesome battle

And a blue mask on top for extra protection

I was lucky. Lucky to have PPE.

Some nurses had trash bags

I had

Protection

Preparation

Encouragement

They had

Pent-up Anger

Patient overload

Exhaustion

So I was lucky. Lucky to have PPE.

I untie the bowtie sitting behind my neck

Then I pull apart the knot around my back

The gowns insides fold out, encasing the contaminated section

The gloves peel off and sweat glistens underneath

I shove the dirty linen into the waste basket

I move on