By Nina Joss
April 10
cold air
nose running
bonfire smell
through the golden curtained light in the window of a house I used to think no one lived in–
someone playing a beautiful, intense piano—
the notes flowing past the shut shades with the warm light
into the empty street.
I wonder if she plays often.
my neighbor Heather, sewing in her living room.
I wonder how long she’s been meaning to sew that for.
I wonder if she is
mending or creating.
(what are we doing now? maybe both)
a man zooming two friends.
he is laughing.
some TVs on.
it’s strange in an empty street, knowing for almost certain that
every home I walk by is full.
downtown is probably empty this Friday night.
I see more lit windows and silhouettes than normal.
I pick up a raspberry container, crushed on the sidewalk.
we will want clean (or painted) sidewalks when this is all over.
I think maybe we are being reborn.