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Sunday, March 01, 2020


by Rick Mullin

I read the news today O Lyle Mays
who died of an unspecified disease
not 70. Somewhere a piano plays,
electric resonance in mystic keys,
no chart imparted to the prima donnas.
It is middle February. Leap year, too.
No telling what an extra day might pack.
No swelling, terrors, cough or turning blue.
At this point there’s no point in turning back.
The third month of a new coronavirus
apparently designed to stay the course.
It’s only February, damn it. Long.
The neighbor’s kid has filed for divorce.
So much to do. So many can go wrong.
One judgment day too many is upon us.

Bosch: laatste oordeel

Rick Mullin's newest poetry collection is Lullaby and Wheel.