Published on September 15th, 2020 | by Dana Salvador1
PANDEMIC POETRY: Dana Salvador’s “Two-week Quarantine”
When we returned from Spain in darkness,
the ornamental flowering pear trees hadn’t yet bud.
We took our temperatures and watched from behind
curtains as white blossoms slowly filled the branches
and waited for signs of illness. A cough could produce
panic—a tightness in my chest a symptom or anxiety?
We took our temperatures and waved
to the neighbors who walked by. We peered
at the cars slowly passing and made up stories
about where they’d been, what they’d done.
We took our temperatures and watched
the white petals shake themselves free,
gathering on the empty street. We took
our temperatures. Eventually, heart-shaped
leaves emerged on expecting branches. At night,
we wandered out in front of our house,
too responsible to venture further. The air
a magical chill against our skin. The stars
still welcomed us, and the moon spread
her light along our foreheads like a cool hand,
a mother hovering over her children.