Austin, Ides of March, 2020

JEFFREY L. TAYLOR

March 18, 2020

It is odd watching the city shut down, 

one venue at a time. SxSW, gone. 

Our church went virtual a week ago. 

Days before, the choir director had called, 

“We will not meet or sing this Sunday,” 

an odd phrasing. The monthly poetry meeting 

was cancelled after the feature backed out. 

Our acting president has been working 

seven days a week to keep the nursing homes 

clean, if not safe. The writing group 

is moving on-line. My extraverted wife 

looks forward to it. This surprises me.

I can imagine a white pastor preaching 

to a video camera in an empty sanctuary. 

But Black pastors? Struggling to preach call 

with no response. Can there be worship 

without congregation, musicians, and choir?

The university and the schools 

shut down yesterday as the first 

COVID-19 cases in Austin 

were announced. Full baskets of 

toilet paper, ramen, paper towels, 

bottled water, and pasta queued up 

with six packs of liter Cokes 

straddling the rails. We are using 

old rags as paper towels.

Like hearing a train start. 

The slam    slam slam 

of each car starting up 

is coming closer.

I know how the train starting up ends. 

How does this end?

JEFFREY L. TAYLOR’S first submitted poems won 1st place and runner-up in RiffMagazine's 1994 Jazz and Blues Poetry Contest.  He has been published in di-vêrsé-city anthology, The Perch, Gathering Storm Magazine, Red River Review, Illya's Honey, Enchantment of the Ordinary anthology, and the 2020 Texas Poetry Calendar.  Serving as sensei (instructor) to small children and professor to graduate students has taught him humility.