“Writing the Apocalypse” is a weekly series featuring the poems of Puma Perl, with subject matter influenced by her experiences as a NYC resident during the COVID-19 pandemic.

It’s Not New, It’s Not Normal | By Puma Perl

Dedicated to the memory of Bob Sztabnik and all of your loved ones

——————————————————————————–

Can we please dump

the phrase “the new normal?”

There is nothing normal

about it, and these words

serve only to tranquilize,

to contain us while we clutch

the invisible bars

in our “self-quarantined” rooms,

another distortion of intent,

suggesting a tacit agreement

with the zombie government,

and its virus of a president,

who made the decisions

that brought us here,

relishing our isolation,

as he strives to further

divide and conquer.

 

It is not “normal.”

It is not “normal”

for working mothers

to come home,

afraid to hug their kids,

or to be separated

from them entirely.

It is also not “new.”

The increasingly overlooked

history of slavery

and the more recent

immigration policies

practiced family dynamics

in a similar way.

 

It is not “normal”

for that mother,

healthy and hale

two weeks ago,

to lie amongst rows

of people, like herself,

incubated and placed

on ventilators.

 

It is not “normal”

for her children

to be deprived

of goodbyes

when she dies,

alone.

Not “normal”

when their relatives

can’t hug and console them.

Does anyone know

where the orphans are going?

I don’t recall much mention of them.

 

It is not “normal”

for the immigrant father,

with a poor command of English,

a man who just lost his wife,

to be sent a laptop

and told he must home school

his children and figure out

the various programs necessary

to provide even

a rudimentary education.

 

It is not “normal”

when a mayor promises

that not one New Yorker

will go hungry

when, in reality,

many New Yorkers go hungry.

It is not “normal”

to provide

senior homebound residents

with four-day supplies of food

in boxes containing

four single servings

of Chef Boyardee Ravioli,

four sugary boxed juice drinks,

a bag of dried milk,

and numerous small packages

of broken Saltine crackers.

 

It’s not the masks

and the gloves

and the disinfectant;

it’s the disconnect

between human needs

in “the new normal,”

it’s the knives

twisting broken hearts,

it’s families agonizing

over how to memorialize

their fallen loved ones.

Do they pull over

and sit alone

in their cars?

Do they pray at 10AM?

Do they find the way

to say goodbye?

 

I walked with Diva

down South Street

in my “new normal” attire.

Two guys,

masked and gloved,

worked out on

the exercise equipment

I once used.

Was that okay?

I don’t know anymore.

I saw groups of cyclists

riding closely together

taking a break,

leaning against the fence,

no masks, no distance.

Joggers running by me

breathing hard.

Scooters, skaters, dog walkers,

clusters of people,

mostly unmasked.

 

It began to close in.

Diva and I walked

to the end of the pier

and headed back.

What 1970’s streets,

abandoned buildings,

overgrown lots,

and Avenue D shooting galleries

failed to do to me

seemed to have been

accomplished by this

“new normal.”

Fear of people,

fear of my surroundings.

We scurried on home,

to the safety

of my “self-quarantine.”

I spray and wash

and count and

do it again.

 

The phone rings

and it’s Joe.

He tells me

about his family,

how they found a way

to send their brother off

with chimes and flowers,

how the only distance

between them

was physical,

and I realize

that hearts

have no distance

and I stop,

for the moment,

and remember

who we are

and what we can do.

 

And no matter what,

I am not afraid

of people,

and I am not afraid

of my city.

 

I am not afraid

of New York City.

 

© puma perl, 04/19/2020

 

Puma Perl is a poet and writer, with five solo collections in print. The most recent is Birthdays Before and After (Beyond Baroque Books, 2019.) She is the producer/creator of Puma’s Pandemonium, which brings spoken word together with rock and roll, and she performs regularly with her band Puma Perl and Friends. She’s received three New York Press Association awards in recognition of her journalism, and is the recipient of the 2016 Acker Award in the category of writing. Her most recent books can be found by clicking here.

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