1 minute read
James K. Zimmerman
Corona (November 2020 Redux)
snug in jackets, burrowing hands in gloves, we pass a curved stone wall, finialcapped, two lions at a gate eroded manes and teeth
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perhaps the entrance to an English garden, you say
but there are no lanes laden with lavender or rows of irises no patchwork quilt of roses rising from beds of moss
poison ivy tendrils snake their way up the lions’ haunches barren sinews of wisteria drape the wall, veins on the back of an old man’s hands
or the path to a portico, you say
we imagine a mansion reigned here before condos invaded across the shaded lane
it’s so quiet, you say
no children play among maples no dogs plead for a walk no one sings from a window
only droplets of a vireo’s song, the arid wheeze of a red-tail hawk, liquid arpeggios of a robin
James K. Zimmerman
like a cemetery, you say cars at the condos in neat rows no one idling in them no one behind the wheel wondering when warmth will rise from hibernation
James K. Zimmerman
A Supplicant’s Prayer in the Anthropocene
All-Powerful Gods of Cyberspace I hereby declare undying faith in you
in this time of clouded vision. I pray you, show me the Word:
O ubiquitous Google, keep me logged in until my search beholds eternal truth!
O Android and iOS, lead me without reboots through the labyrinthine web!
O Alexa, hear me, I beseech you be my bff, my servant and my sage!
O App Store, bring me celestial delights, the tools of my salvation!
O Twitter, O Instagram, connect me to the OMGs and ROFLs of friendship!
O Zoom, O Skype, grant me room for vidchats to uplift my wretched soul!
O Amazon, sate my deepest cravings with every click and touch of screen!
O Activision, let me master blood and death with pixelated thumbs!
O Peloton, take my legs, my arms my heart to lower BMI, to immortality!
O mighty Waze, speak to me, GPS me to a place of sacred ground!
I boot up my faith in you, Omniscient All-Powerful Gods of Cyberspace—
Track me, embed your cookies, sell to me! O TikTok, let me hear you say: “Amen!”
