Thursday, January 20, 2022

New Poetry by Nina Rubinstein Alonso










Just what I need in plague season

Dead crow on my fender
parked here barely ten minutes 
likely fell from that crab-apple’s wide 

branches stretching across the sidewalk
scattering blossoms and a funeral bird

just what I need in plague season
first glance looks like clotted fabric
or rain-soaked flowers blown down by

sudden gusts but it’s an innocent 
black bird on my rain-splattered car

dustpan slides this feathered soul
into a trash barrel while I shiver
inside my rain-soaked jacket 

see other fear-masked soggy humans
mailing bills with nervous gloved hands

feel the vibration of pandemic fire
silent invisible messenger   
threatening sickness and death   

though gloomy discouraged lonely
I’m here for whatever 

incomprehensible reasons
a cranky being walking
around sad-singing alive.


- © Nina Rubinstein Alonso 2022


Nina Rubinstein Alonso’s work has appeared in Ploughshares, The New Yorker, Ibbetson Street, Bluepepper, Writing in a Woman’s Voice, Broadkill Review, etc. Her book This Body was published by David Godine Press, her chapbook Riot Wake is upcoming from Cervena Barva Press, and a poetry collection about travel in Spain is in the works.

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