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      May 10, 2020FogAlison Luterman

      We don’t have snow here
      but some mornings the whole world
      is white and hushed and soft with fog
      and whatever troubles we went to sleep
      clutched to our thudding hearts
      have loosened overnight and are dissolving
      in mist. The regal hills
      to the East have been erased
      behind a cottony scrim, and people
      appear to appear
      out of nowhere in the dawn hush.
      An old woman in mask and gloves
      pushes her shopping cart
      full of salvaged empties. A mother hauls
      two babies up the street, one in a backpack,
      one in a stroller. A man
      with dreadlocks and headphones
      cruises by on his bike,
      no-hands. All of them
      whoosh into the frame
      and then vanish. Like the future, or the past,
      or some other dimension, alive,
      but invisible to us.

      from Poets Respond

      Alison Luterman

      “I feel a kind of mental fogginess creeping in as we enter week infinity of sheltering-in-place with no certainty about what the future holds—not that we ever had certainty, not really. At times like these it’s helpful for me to remember that there has always been mystery at the heart of life.”