Vanity in the Time of Corona

 For pierced ears only: Vanity in the Time of CoronaVirus

There must be some semblance of decorum

Sheltering in place is no reason to get slovenly.

I shall don a pair of earrings each day during this pause in time

While waiting patiently for the green light

Being able to choose is power in a current world of powerlessness

The gold chevrons with the tiny ball on top and the sharp point at the tip.

He handed them to me one evening, a gift in exchange for that small indiscretion with the hope of make-up sex-

They remind me of him

These hoops, a continuous circle of gold with laser cutting to make them shine.

Not today

Too much history.

Purchased from the home shopping channel lying on the couch with a basin to catch the puke from dry-heaving after each treatment. One could argue buyer's remorse…

Here's a pretty pair. They hang like chandeliers, each aurora borealis glimmers its own personality

My "happy" earrings

Students liked to make them jingle and jangle during lessons

But they're no longer my story.

Ah, the silver encrusted with marcasite and amethyst. Maybe. Each with a tiny gold lotus flower hidden in the center. All mindfulness and Zen. Much too much purpose.

Too many voids left to fill- finding perfect in the sounds of silence

Ears cannot be unadorned during a pandemic

It's too plebian and today calls for bourgeois sensibilities

Choose the diamonds. They attract strength, courage, fortitude.

What the world needs now. 

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The Water Strider

The water strider worked his way upstream with effort-filled jerks, then turned and strode gracefully back down, barely dimpling the surface of the water and casting oval-shaped shadows on the streambed with each of his feet. He repeated this endeavor over and over. Once when he neared me, I glanced down to look at him and instead noticed two tiny eyes pointing in my direction… tiny eyes on the end of tiny tentacles under several inches of water.

It took me a moment to determine what the tentacles were attached to, since their snail was covered with algae and was moving very, very slowly, across the algae-coated rock under the water. He was moving so slowly and apparently gently that he wasn't even disturbing the pearl-like bubbles on the rock's surface. I watched, engrossed, over the next several minutes, as the snail moved about a centimeter closer, first sliding his foot a millimeter or two, then pausing before hitching his shell along to catch up with his foot.

I held my cell phone down by the water to take a close-up of the snail to hopefully see him better than I could from my perch on the steeply sloped stone on the bank of the stream. I snapped the photo, then looked at my phone to see the snail…and looked again… There was no snail on the screen on my phone… Instead I saw, a clear, detailed shot of tree branches and green leaves against the blue sky…

I looked again at the stream and there was the snail. Then, with effort, I adjusted my focus and finally saw the reflection from above that I had missed while focusing on the strider on the water and the snail below the water. 

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We're Online

Write with wVw online.

How is everyone adjusting to this time of sheltering in place? #AloneTogether? 

I first experienced resistance: this can't be happening and if it is I hate all these limitations. Next resignation, brought on largely by my children who insisted I was not taking the situation seriously. Then came adjustment: how do I re-create the things in my life that give me joy?

wVw is going online. I noticed meetings, classes, church services, and even birthday parties were going online. Would it be possible for wVw workshops to succeed online. This week a number of writers joined me to test the possibility. It worked! We wrote, read and responded to one another as if we were gathered in my living room. The creative magic of writing in the moment to a prompt was present. Not the same intimacy of writing in the same space, but we wrote and read inspiring stories, poems, and essays. We were not alone at all. We wrote in community. #wVwTogether.

Registration is open for online writing workshops: Wednesday afternoons, Thursday evenings, Sunday afternoons and a Write Lent (Write Saturday). Register Wallkill Valley Writers.

There is a registration fee; however, our writing community is more important, contact Kate Hymes if your circumstances limit your ability to pay.

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the river now

two legs
four legs
legs to stand on
legs to talk on
mute except where we meet
at the ground
our ground, we agree

she spins it
with each step
a river of sticks
to stand on
movement always makes
my heart
beat back
I remember
even the frozen
moves at a level
pacing
quiet

we call it death
when the legs fall down even
the tree kins its knee
no blood here, I can't see it
no blood here, she said
its floating
all around us

the river now
moves on
stone stays
stone pile
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I Tell You This

​I do not hold onto my anger
  Or disappointments
And that affects my poetry
 
Housing projects
Bullies
Single mom
Welfare
Brother's hand me downs
 
Abuses by boys not sure yet
How to treat a woman
  Or girl
With breasts already bigger than
                                    their experiences
Dreaming of breasts as comfort
Grabbing them for confirmation
 
Child for a husband
Who hit with words
Withheld emotion
  And conversation
  And the will to provide
Sex as a privilege
Not desire
  But punishment

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