Lingering Effects

Suzanne Morris

February 10, 2022

The new black cloth mask felt
heavy on my face–

supposedly more effective
than the thinner ones

hastily procured in the
early stage of the long pandemic–

its small slit for breathing
barely a reprieve

and I couldn’t get the
words out

though they seemed
right on the edge

how I felt sitting in
the big theatre auditorium

that Sunday afternoon when
live plays had resumed after

a year and a half of
delays and false starts

attended by dashed hopes and
another round of layoffs

then finally–.

I haven’t developed Covid–
thank God– but maybe

something in my spirit
couldn’t breathe freely for too long

and was left with certain
lingering effects

how being in my
assigned seat seemed

the same as before,
but then again

not the same at all,

the old tingling rush of
anticipation at the curtain’s rise

all but smothered under
some undefined weight

and the words to
describe how I felt

trapped behind
the mask

now required
at all performances.

Suzanne Morris is a novelist with eight published works, most recently, Aftermath (SFA University Press, 2016). Until recently, her poetry appeared only in her fiction. However, last year she was invited to contribute seven poems to an anthology entitled No Season for Silence - Texas Poets and Pandemic, (Kallisto Gaia Press).