I talk you talk we'll talk



Love in the Time of Corona

Love in the Time of Corona

(I wonder, really, how the beer is doing)


It’s not a good time

To be sick with something else

Even though it is

I mean, the current, awful thing

Is still untreated (though

there are indications)

And a sinus infection can be


I talked with my p-a

Because we can’t visit face-to-face

It would have been a video chat

Except my sister whose machine

This was

Dislikes the video component of her

Work and so disable the parts

On this computer so that they cannot

Work again,

And I don’t blame her


So we talked, Emily the p-a and I

I got my usual scolding for not doing

Everything I should be doing

(I’m not brave as much as I’m poor),

And I agreed to be taking everything along with

The new thing

Getting some kind of cuff to track

My pressure and my pulse, which

Must be worse for everyone

Just now

Plus the reward of an antibiotic,

Which is how it feels to me even though she

Dangled nothing as a prize


So maybe by the end of day

I’ll be resupplied and newly supplied

The stress will be better, my eyes,

And the infection

(better for infection meaning gone)

Be as well as I can be with

Everything ongoing


C L Couch



with thanks and apologies to Gabriel García Márquez


Love in the Time of Cholera – Wikipedia

Love in the Time of Cholera (Spanish : El amor en los tiempos del cólera) is a novel by Colombian Nobel prize winning author Gabriel García Márquez. The novel was first published in Spanish in 1985. Alfred A. Knopf published an English translation in 1988, and an English-language movie adaptation was released in 2007.



Photo by Stéfano Girardelli on Unsplash


Native American guardian totem





There is a virus in the world that’s

Killing people

(there are other things that kill us, too)


Some people, many, most in fact

Have responded well

Quietly, not so quietly

Watching after

Each other

Enduring hoarding that is

The villain’s privilege


Governments have

Responded, some much

Later than the others

Some are doing well, though the more

Fractious institutions

(not so much the scientific ones,

we hope)

The more the stumping

As if this were a matter more

For Indifferent reelection

Than the health

Of nations, cities, villages, and

Outlying—families, one

Person by one


So more will die

And the privileged

Will not take credit for this


In the scientific places,

Teams are working hard, to say the least,

The right kind of aggression

Understanding that

There are no politics in molecules,

That a virus doesn’t care

Who gets elected

Who stamps harder in

The podium floor

Like Rumpelstiltskin, until disappearing


Molecules don’t care

The molecules of viruses simply

Want to thrive


C L Couch



Photo by National Cancer Institute on Unsplash

Kras-Driven Lung Cancer. Created by Eric Snyder, 2015.


Mortals Thinking

Mortals Thinking


There’s such pain in my shoulders

I guess I slept too hard

And too briefly

There are noises in the house

Some of which I’m tired of

But in the be-thankful-for-small-favors


It could be worse—

Does that cancel out philosophies?


We should be stuck here in

Willing confinement

‘Til the onslaught of disease has passed

If it’s a wave that only washes once

If it spirals ‘round, what then?

Patchworks of isolation

Until a cure is found

Then distributed with some sense of

Democracy (in oligarchies,

call it equanimity)


At least, there’s air

No one is trying to sell

And water from the tap or

Through a filter, while we have one

There’s food, a median between

Hoarding and scarcity

For the moment, shelter is broadening

In possibilities for some places

Hitherto homeless folk entering

Abandoned, government houses

If they’re abandoned, let them stay

Useful government

As a change


I don’t know about our attitudes

They’re everywhere, I’d say

The gross rich who are on TV

To say that everything’s fine

Trust us

We don’t

The angry and the righteous

More so (and everyone), there’s


Of illness and mortality

Reasonable terrors

For the unfaithful

And for those who believe still living inside

Human husks

I know I don’t want to be shed of my shell

Just yet

Today, tomorrow, far into the future

I don’t have

This side of the dark glass


C L Couch



Photo by Grant Durr on Unsplash



Crowning Virus

Crowning Virus



The liar says it’s under control

The doctors and the sick know better

A victim is the one who

First called out


It won’t go without a cure

There isn’t one

If something supernal is revenging

Us, I do not know

Nor can it matter now

We don’t know how to sacrifice

Upon an altar made of stone and wood

It’s just as well

Eventually, we’d think of blood


As a scientific matter,

It could work out

But only if we keep the heart of it

We suffer and we die

On every side


If monolithic fiends could put aside

Gilt agendas

In favor of a geode, crystalline in all



The Earth still shines

We are smart and still have

The better things inside

There is danger like the predator’s

How we respond will make us,

Keep us who we are


C L Couch



Photo by JR Korpa on Unsplash


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