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.