Day 19- 10.5.20
Today is everything, really
Today my mother turned fifty-nine
in three face masks and goggles
in the waiting room of a suburban hospital.
As her own mother sat alone in a paper gown
five stories up, she checked her work emails,
took a few deep breaths, and was promptly told
she was not permitted to go up--not today.
In a daydream, a seagull lent me her wings
and I soared over burning forests, the great ocean,
mountain ridges, and fields and fields of wheat
to deliver a hug gooier than honey
to the both of them.