Van Gogh’s Café Terrace at Night March 2020, the newborn, COVID-19, kicks and screams, Look at me! Look at me! My husband and I stay home, work from home, eat at home. Restaurants no longer open for casting off the day’s stress with margaritas and enchiladas. Our trip to France cancelled, no dancing across the cobblestone, in Arles. We won’t slide into orange chairs pulled out from a white table, or beckon friends to eat, drink, tell bad jokes. We sit on the couch, catch daily statistics, how many new cases, how many deaths. Who are heroes and who are hideous. New normal: balcony empty, shutters closed. Light glows in the windows of tall buildings, spotted sky embraces. Limbs of a tree border a building, want to touch it while they still can. Robin Wright Robin Wright lives in Southern Indiana. Her work has appeared in Re-side, Black Bough Poetry, Spank the Carp, Ariel Chart, Young Ravens Literary Review, Muddy River Poetry Review, and others. Her work was nominated for a Pushcart Prize by Panoply, and her first chapbook, Ready or Not, is forthcoming from Finishing Line Press.
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May 2025
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