Worry. Don’t write. Pace. Try to write. Obsessively scroll through COVID updates. Avoid writing. Adopt a sourdough starter and name her “Lily”. Make bread. Write a few uninspired lines. Think of mortality. Update my will. Download calming music. Start to write in spurts. Wallow in writer’s block with Corona (the good memories kind) and lime to escape corona (the bad memories kind).
COVID Hands
Hands wrap Christmas gifts
casually dine, shop, touch
before your invisible invasion
camouflaged by a crown
that strangles, ambushes
the frail, the carers, the social
retreating like prisoners
stockpiling and sanitizing
lonely hands that become
wrung, wrought, red, raw
tracing outbreaks, clusters, death
hands gloved, sewing masks
banging pots and pans
punching down homemade bread
isolated hands that yearn
but cannot hug
About the Author
Christine Deynaka studies creative writing at Selkirk College in Nelson. Some of her short stories were previously published in the Black Bear Review.
