Jana Clark has lived in Denver since 1963 and raised her family of five who attended Denver Public Schools where she was a teacher.
Now, she has nine grandchildren she is missing during this year of quarantine.
Reading and writing add comfort to her lonely days. She first ended this poem after the seventh stanza but as the year passed, she realized survival — even in isolation — was a good thing, and she wanted the piece to reflect joy and hope.
RMPBS: Writing the Pandemic
WHAT IF...
Jana Clark
WHAT IF...
I used to rub my eye
out of kindness
to let me know
that I was there
Now I must wave
Across the kitchen
to me washing my hands
with soap
I no longer
know the touch
of soft hand
on cheek
I’ve lost the smell
of me
replaced by sanitizer
and bleach
My voice is quiet.
All those I used to teach
gone into
their own space
The blueberries, each washed in soap,
dry alone on paper towels-
no longer taste of wooded
childhoods
What if I lose myself?
Though the door is locked—
against what?
Only the virus knocks.
Going forward I take bread:
the feel of sticky dough,
rolled in flour, so smooth,
let it rise, beat it down
(like howling at 8)
cover with a towel.
When it doubles, bake it.
I take the smell
(if I never ate it, the smell is enough!).
If you are gluten intolerant,
the smell is enough!
I take the touch
unlike the forbidden face,
I take the touch,
the texture, the warmth,
the assurance
there will be no hunger tonight.
Walking into the future,
I take the taste of home:
warm, simple, my own.
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