With hands in gloves, and face mask tight, I’m sheltered, home, alone. My door is locked, the blinds are drawn, Connected only by Internet and phone. Just when I think that I may survive, Life takes a somber token. Alas, I think I’ll starve to death. My can opener has just broken.
You may have noticed that this poem is a bit of a departure for Ephemeral Elegies. The elegy parody poem was written by my dad, Wayne Harmon, a retired teacher and life-long prankster. When he emailed me this poem, I wanted to share it with you in the hopes that it could bring some light and laughter to a situation we all share. Quarantine may be keeping everyone physically apart, but I’m glad we have this space for poetry to still keep us connected. Let’s celebrate life as much as we mourn our losses.
Wishing you all the best,
Tiffany Renee Harmon, Editor-in-Chief of Ephemeral Elegies