By howard
Published: April 28, 2008
Updated: April 28, 2008
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H5N1

by

Howard Waldman


Foolishly bare-armed (with pathogenic birds overhead defecating in flight), the others on the supermarket parking-lot goggle at my tight-buttoned overcoat, gloves, surgical mask and deployed umbrella. Ninety degrees in the shade, yes, but we’ll see who’s crazy. Haven’t they read of the danger of mutation and the crossing of the species barrier?

Back home with food for two to withstand the summer siege, I discover Mary and her things are gone. Because of her cat of course. He devoured birds and his love-bites would have been mortal. Couldn’t she understand that? He didn’t suffer. He lies deep in the garden far from birds.

Burning the dangerous feather-stuffed pillows, I scorch my hand rescuing a long blonde hair, all I have of her now.

Summer, pigeon-infested, drags on.

My doors are locked, my windows shut, the phone finally disconnected, the letter-box no longer explored.

TV recounts the synchronized progress of terrorism and the deadly sickness. Their women are encased in wise burkas: total protection. They will inherit the ruins of our civilization.

Last night melancholy cries ended a dream of the two of us in a long-ago wood full of innocent birds, mottled sunshine in her long hair.

I stand before the closed window and see distant V’s of honking geese cleaving the dawn sky.

Why am I crying?

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