It’s spring, which for me generally means poetry. I don’t know why, but I tend to write more poetry as the weather changes over from winter to spring than at any other time of the year. Today is the first day of spring. It’s also been nearly a week of social distancing and grocery hoarding and constant talk of Covid-19 on social media. I was on Twitter briefly today and felt that “I should post something” feeling. I second later, I closed Twitter and wrote this.

 

Status Update

I have nothing to say
yet I must say it—
that I have nothing to say—
nothing interesting
nothing clever
nothing controversial
(whether intended or otherwise)
I have nothing to say
to any of you
but I must say something
because you are out there
scrolling
wanting to see
what people have to say
(not me, necessarily)
just anyone
anything to fill the silence
I must somehow say nothing
so it seems like something
to you
I must fill in your space
and you must fill in mine
as far as the character count
will allow, as far as
meaning can be stretched—
spread over barren lives
like white paint
over white canvas
adding up to so much
nothing
filling an emptiness
that was not there
until the possibility of filling it was