By Jack Nahmod

I’ll miss the warm embrace on my face,
the no excuse for losing touch while losing touch;
when negative was positive,
though positive was negative.
But those boxes.
Boxes, boxes, boxes and boxes.
Repeated, a word so weird it almost captures the feeling,
of having nowhere to go and people all gone.
Retreat to our corners;
repeat retweet repeat retreat.
Watch myself talk.
Boxes full of all of us.

I live in White Plains, NY. My first career was as an attorney, and I practiced law for about seven years, including a federal judicial clerkship. I then changed careers and became a rabbi, and for the past 16 years I have been a school teacher and administrator of grades 6-12.

Notify of
Inline Feedbacks
View all comments

Let us know what you think of the Poetry and Covid project by completing this short survey… thank you!

Would love your thoughts, please comment.x