Duplex for the Sick & Tired

^{after Jericho Brown}

A poem can spasm, stretch, but it can let salve in.
There aren’t enough pages for the longing.

           There aren’t enough pages for the longing
           drenched in medicine bottles and ice packs.

Drenched in medicine bottles and ice packs,
our aches sing beyond joints and stethoscopes in denial.

           Those who sing beyond joints and stethoscopes in
           denial, how do the symptoms stack your days?

Let’s name the stacks of dangerous symptoms:
News coverage, the state, strangers who say the pandemic is over.

           News coverage, the state, strangers who say the pandemic is over
           as I dream about a world that celebrates all of us.

As I dream about a world that celebrates all of us fully,
Let’s allow poems to stretch. Let the salve in.

Copyright © 2024 by Kay Ulanday Barrett. Originally published in Poem-a-Day on May 17, 2024, by the Academy of American Poets. 

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“For four years, life has been ‘at risk,’ ‘immuno-compromised,’ unable to go back to ‘normal’ due to both COVID-19 and colonial erasure. As poets, we can practice holding delicate moments, human and inhumane nuances, and consider the possible beauty in all of it. Many live during a global pandemic that is ignored. Millions live in contexts in which they’re just trying to stay alive. I am tired of resilience. Tired of people risking the lives of others. The repetition in form here conveys exhaustion and a rhythmic reframe too: Let’s dream something else. Poems can strategize, and find a channel to exist without needing to prove that any life is worth living.”
—Kay Ulanday Barrett