Spring, Early Summer, 2020

by Nonnie Augustine


Hard to admit I was failing at living.
Too loose. My seams frayed.
Friends knew, but what could they do?
My living brother too far away.

From my recliner I watched the virus take, take, take.
Shocked by the lock-down in Italy—empty piazzas.
Italians gather to eat, drink, argue, love, laugh.
I remember their vivacity, liveliness, pleasure. Now this.

Alone in my home, heart disease dizzy,
I fell often onto tile floors. Bruises, tears.
Then— I broke my leg— then a new deal.
Assisted living they said. Sell the family home.

I resisted, relented, regrouped.
Masked and socially distant in one big building
and our many small apartments we make a go of it.
I’m stronger now and the panic has almost subsided.