CORONAVIRUS
By Martha Sherman
THERE WAS A TIME,
MIDWAY THROUGH MOTHERHOOD
WHEN I WOULD YEARN
FOR THE SWEET CESSATION OF BOYISH SHOUTS,
FOR TIME TO SHAPE MY THOUGHTS.
TO WRITE THEM OUT,
SILENCE I CRAVED
THERE WAS THE THREATENING BUMP
OF KIDDIE CARS
TRYING TO RIDE THE STAIRS,
THE ENDLESS BEAT OF “RACE CARS
IN ACTION” ON THE RECORD PLAYER,
THE EXULTANT CRIES WHEN POLE VAULTS
CLEARED THE CLOTHESLINE.
NOW, ISOLATED BY GERM AND AGE
FROM THE CACOPHONY OF YOUTH AND LIFE
I REJOICE IN BIRD SONG
AND THE SOUND OF OARS
CUTTING THE QUIET OF A PLACID RIVER.
—
Published in Laurelmead Journal, early April. Posted to RI COVID Archive
Sherman died April 1, right before this was published, at age 101
“Martha Sherman lived to be 101 years old and wrote the poem shortly before she died. She and her husband raised four sons. In her poem she reflected on the fact that there was constant noise and activity in the house when her sons were growing up, and recalled some memorable moments, including one son trying to ride a tricycle down the stairs, the constant playing of an LP that consisted solely of noise from race cars, and a son who had a passion for pole vaulting over the the clothes line in the backyard. There was very little peace in those days!”
Deming Sherman, Martha’s son
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