The Little Review (littlereview) wrote,
The Little Review

Poem for Tuesday and Washingtonian Waterfowl

By Marilyn Chin

Why must I tell you this story, O little one
You’re just a bud-of-a-girl, who knows nothing

Now you are full-faced, bright as sun
Now you open your skirts pink, layered, brazen

Suffering is alchemy, change is God
Now you droop your head, heavy with rust

Sit, contemplate, what did Buddha say?
Old age, sickness, death, no one owns eternity

Detach, detach, look away from the sun
Let your petals fall aimlessly

Don’t despair, little one, we are done


Monday was, unsurprisingly, a pretty quiet day. I had lunch plans with Kay, but we'd decided to be responsible and cancel even before the governor ordered all restaurants in Maryland to close except for takeout. Instead I had bagels at home with Paul and scanned a bunch of old photos when I wasn't writing or reading coronavirus memes; when he was done with his phone conferences, we went to Locust Grove to take a walk, where it was very easy to avoid being within many feet of other people.

We watched the first episode of The Plot Against America, which I liked but it's hard to get a real sense of how good the scarier parts will be from just the introduction, plus we caught up on last night's Supergirl (I appreciate the sentiment but it was pretty heavy-handed in its writing) and Zoey's Extraordinary Playlist (hitting every cliche Isn't It Romantic warned about) which we blew off to watch Westworld (definitely the right call). From Washingtonian Lake on Saturday, some more of the geese and goslings:

2020-03-14 13.25.49








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