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?
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 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.
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
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
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
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
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
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