Thinking of Someone You Used to Know in the Time of a Pandemic
The death tolls rise and
I worry about the state of your lungs
It occurs to me that I wouldn’t know if you were
one of the thousands lost
I cut every tie to you
and who would tell me?
Who would even know that I wanted to know?
What right do I have, anyways,
after all this time?
After all, while I was sending you foreign flags
and postcards, asking my mother what she thought I should do,
showing my friends the poem you wrote,
you were keeping me tucked away, secret
Who knew my name? Who knew where to find me?
Who would have even told me if you were gone?
Sometimes I try to check up on you.
Maybe I shouldn’t. You weren’t ever mine
to worry about — this is the truth of it.
Most days I don’t think of you at all
Most days I have no reason to
But then another 100, 1000, die
I try to check up on you.
I never learn much.
Today, the dead close in on 16,000 in your state
I will believe you aren’t one of them
Who is there to tell me otherwise?
And what right do I have to know,
after all this time?
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Grace Moore is a writer from Washington. She writes fiction, creative nonfiction, and the occasional poem. She also writes articles on travel, mental health, writing, and books. Sometimes she’s funny, or at least that’s what her mom says. Follow her on Instagram @gracieawriter.
