Here We Are

Off to the stationery store on Avenue A 
to buy paper and metal bookends. 
At least 58 people died in Europe 
this week in a brutal cold wave, 
plunging temperatures to 17 degrees 
below zero. When I step inside, 
I’m suddenly phlegmy and coughing.  
Blood starts pouring out of my 
left nostril. A funny old woman 
hidden inside a blue hooded coat 
darts out the door. Republicans 
point at the millions of immigrant 
workers pouring into the country. 
Then I look in the mirror and see 
a funny looking old woman 
with her head wrapped 
like a mummy and a tissue stuck 
in her nose. King Tut’s mummy 
was recently removed from 
the sarcophagus, and placed 
in a climate-controlled box 
to be displayed at a museum in Luxor.  
My husband often had a bloody nose. 
Maybe we’ll find each other 
in another life. When I think of 
losing my children, I feel my body 
crack into pieces. China’s cracking 
down on subversive meditating 
disciples of the Dalai Lama.  
Be thankful for now, Barbara. 
Today. This minute. Here we are.