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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.







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© 2020 by CARLY BROOKE FEINMAN