today is my 73rd year circling the sun

and i think

not of the past, but 

rather of all that i’ve yet begun

this year, for me, has a special bite

as i live in solitude–on previous occasions

as an adult, i have never been alone

always a companion close by enough

i could touch them without a phone

perhaps, as i age, i taste how

my paternal fore-fathers have 

literally been men who died

without spouses by their side

my grandfather, whom i remember

saying his father came from paris, france

died during hurricane betsy sequestered

into a closet, his body not revealed

until a week after the drowning

my burly father, my map of manhood

who transitioned while i and my two brothers

stood silent at his hospital bed side

both branches of my lineage 

were wifeless when they expired

and similarly i am recently wifeless

as i live–it is not a morbid thought

simply a recognition of reality

i am a writer

i remind myself and the world

this morning i snuggled into a black t-shirt

emblazoned with a photo

of my patron saint, langston hughes

i still have so much i want to do

not places to go (especially

as i am encased in this virus blighted world)

not even people i want to see

but rather book projects to complete

and, hopefully, friends and survivors

to inspire, and so, to them and

to the world, i say: salud, carry on

hold the line, maintain the struggle

to make this world

better and more beautiful

no matter what is before us

let us leave behind

actions, times and memories

that make all of us

better and more beautiful

–24 march 2020