Sunday, March 16, 2025

Zoonoses

Every night in 2020

I dreamed of Pestilence on his pale horse.

Sometimes just its hoofbeats--

ta-tump, ta-tump, heartbeats

on a monitor in the ICU.

Sometimes its whinny, harsh

as the wheeze of laboring lungs.


Some nights he turned and showed me

the plague doctor’s mask, long beak

stuffed with aromatic herbs.

Sometimes he shows me a skull.

Sometimes the face of someone I love.


It’s never really over, he says.

Next time instead of horse’s hooves

we’ll hear swine-hooves, a bird-cry, monkey chatter

and we’ll recognize the rider

when he’s standing at the bedside

and he says Too late.

 

Books Available
Dervish Lions
The Day of My First Driving Lesson
Country Well-Known as an Old Nightmare's Stable
High-Voltage Lines
Knocking from Inside

1 comment:

Ruth said...

Chilling images!