Two Poems I Thought Might Lead To a Poem a Day


Joanna Kosinska
1. The Supermarket Stock Boy

arranges each summer plum
as if his fingers carry the ancient
rhythm-memory of Egyptian slaves
fitting each rectangular stone,
one per slave, into the Pharaoh’s
perpetual resting place,

Gaurav D Lathiya

making a game of it–TetrisJenga
tapping the stone: tick, tick, tick,
laying his hand upon its smooth face,
praying a blessing, a curse,
upon whatever hapless shopper
cannot decide which plum to lift first

and the pyramid remain intact, and then
a second, a third . . .


Jonathan Borba
2. City Light Mother and Child

She is all our mothers, too young and lovely,
probably alone except for Gracie Rose,
eighteen months old, holding her mother’s
hand, toddling in line Monday, Wednesday,
Friday noon for the hot meal handed out
at the door, demarcation against
spiked Evil, Coronavirus, COVID-19,
no respecter of mother and child,

Sai De Silva

their breath salvation like the Spirit of God
breathing Light upon the Void, its darkness
over evening and morning, the Spirit’s
promise of mourning no more.

Because you are not standing here with me,
City Light Community Ministries volunteer,
and all the other lame and lepers displaced,
each scarred countenance softened by
Gracie Rose and her lovely mother,

Joey Pilgrim

you cannot feel your downtrodden spirit
lifted like each of us undeserving of
such blessing–the kind eyes and forgiving
smile of mother and child, and we know,
but keep to ourselves that she is Mary,
chosen mother of the child come to save us,
each asking, as if in prayer, “Remember me?”
Remember me.

Liana Mikah