By Maria Lisella
Like a bandita ...
By Maria Lisella
I wrap nose, mouth, peer above my makeshift pandemic burka.
My laugh gives me away to mom & pop shopkeepers I visit
while I shun supermarket lines, flee if I see
more than one customer.
No glances at any bargains,
Like a squirrel storing its nuts for winter, I scurry among
squash, potatoes, cabbage, long-lasting vegetables,
the swift rush, a need for abundance
in this new world of sick, healthy and suspect.
Hastily race to the safety of home;
the ferocious flight from invisible droplets that hover and stray
on a sleeve, a grocery bag, the heel of a shoe;
dive for the finish of another day without
incident or symptom.
​
They jump aside as if startled ...
By Maria Lisella
They jump aside as if startled...
but no, the two men dressed in blue denim jumpsuits like
the ones you see in 1940s French films, leap aside
to make room for the new social distance edict,
and I’m grateful.
First a meter or 39 inches, it has grown to six feet
in a city once so comfortable
with an 18-inch nose to nose distance
among eight million subway riders.
Homes become a prison, sanctuary, or retreat.
We seek solace from: phones,
midnight texts, emails,
live streams usher guests
into our living rooms.
Maria Lisella is the sixth Queens Poet Laureate and she was recently named an Academy of American Poets Fellow https://poets.org/poet/maria-lisella. Twice nominated for a Pushcart Poetry Prize, her collections include Thieves in the Family (NYQ Books), Amore on Hope Street, and Two Naked Feet.
She curates the Italian American Writers Association readings, and is a travel writer by profession; her work appears in travel trade magazines as well as USA TODAY, Jerusalem Post and the online bilingual publication, La Voce di New York. https://marialisella.contently.com/
