August 5, 2020 (for Mark) Enclosed with you. But rather with? No one, Of course. We’ve fashioned decades side by side, And some days it’s as if we’ve just begun To see each other’s core. Pandemic’s slide Into confusion makes life sharper than The blurry days of running here and there, Compelled and scattered. No need to plan Each moment now-- my grasp is light as air Though never tighter on what matters most: Our children. Neighbors. Music. Books. The yard. And thoughts about the wider world: the lost Of every sort! The earth. I know what’s hard Is yet to come, but soon we’ll crack the door, And live in ways we should have lived before.
About the Author: Paul Lamar lives with his husband, Mark, in Albany, NY, where he teaches poetry, fiction, and memoir workshops; reviews theater for a local paper; and conducts a chorus. Over many years (he just attended his 55th college reunion, mirabile dictu!) his poems and stories have appeared in Prairie Schooner, Steam Ticket, Bloodroot, Southern Review, Off the Coast, etc.
Image Credit: Edvard Munch “Men Turning Toward the Sun” Public domain image courtesy of Artvee