By Laura Grevel
You Doing Okay?
I could have eaten grape vine leaves
but chocolate is what came to me.
In these times of mask it or mess it,
I’ve got a little confused, Bless It!
It’s probably better not to go back to bed
though I already did that it has to be said.
Let’s go out, look for lady bugs—
what do you say?
We’ll follow one from leaf to blade,
ask her how she keeps from flying astray,
ask her how she gets her day underway.
The year my grandmother died at 103.
The year Manfred and Lolly died, Covid related.
The year Mrs Young and her father died, of heartbreak.
Come here and sit beside me—
let’s sit by the grapevine and bide our time.
Have you seen the grapes—how they ripen?
They haven’t stopped, though so much has.
Look at those apple trees.
The smaller has reddish fruit for eating raw,
the bigger has green apples for cooking.
We grafted those branches again and again.
At first they died
but look how these grew!
Some things require time.
In that big patch over there is mint.
Each year, it grows 3 to 6 feet tall.
We cut it to the ground—
it comes back.
Come, sit by the grapevine—
we’ll bide our time.
On a Hard Day: Words to Myself
A friend wrote,
I wonder if Hurricane Laura
is Earth’s response to your poetry.
Writing words, she says, is purging bad thoughts.
Breathe slowly, she says.
She’s on a farm:
chickens, pig, bees
cats, dogs, plants, fish,
Parents in hospital, not terribly sick,
in the same room with Covid.
We are supposed to be kind, she says
Being in the same room is kind
still I doubt my words
have hurricane power,
though Einstein did define
as “spooky action at a distance”.
In other words,
without mechanical linkage
act in harmony.
Laura Grevel is a performance poet and blogger who has performed in Texas and Europe. Now Nottingham-based, she has been published in anthologies, newspapers, podcasts and the DIY Poets’ Zine.
Writing during the pandemic has been a different kind of monster. This monster can be kind on sunny days and throw fits on others. This monster is often passionate and tiring to be around. But the monster helps me cope. I have to write because writing is my way of coming up with ideas and solving problems. During the Covid pandemic, I have read and written a lot. Both activities take me away from myself. Reading gives me other worlds to inhabit. Writing allows me to create something that feels productive from the chaos of the wonderful monster called life.