I remember the first time I was called a poet. It was four years ago at the Worker Writers School monthly workshop. Davidson Garrett, a fellow member and published author, bestowed such a title on me. The haiku, a Japanese form of poetry, was introduced to us by Mark Nowak, founder and director of the Worker Writers School. The pandemic, sadly enough, needed to be documented. And as horrific as it was and still is, writing haiku was a way of relieving my constant fear and pain. The best haiku has simplicity and spontaneity and embodies the five senses. A candid shot, without any disturbances. I try to incorporate at least one of these elements in my haiku writings.
Rock landed on my
head – no blood – was just startled
thought it was mango
I take the train to work and the cars are infested with inspiration for haiku.
Blowing nose in mask
that is some nasty stink shit
on frigging five train
I am still learning the craftsmanship of poetry and hoping to be better with every haiku I write.
—Lorraine Garnett
Let us talk about death
silent family dinners
knife fork spoon jiggling
Plague world in labor
cervix dilates – water broke
moms swaddling stillbirths
Death dance betwixt smoke
moving like moon jellyfish
COVID stopped prancing
Delta variant
put mom’s mask before you place
her in steel coffin
She had baby wrapped
in stroller – child was not real
stabbing pain she wears
Coronavirus
begone! it's almost two years
tell anti vaxxers!
Brisk conversation
with breeze - asked to remove mask
Delta variant!
First day of school, dad
adjust two-year-old son’s mask
he said, “ouch daddy”
Dear Agent Virus,
my nana went to heaven
she forgot her hat
Stinky poopie germs
what, what – what did you call me?
stinky poopie germs
I Agent Virus
I am best superhero
bro – no! you’re sicko
Dear Agent Virus,
want to see my best friend, Will
I love my teacher!
Fly stuck in corner
buzzing – seeking help, pleading
for one slice of wealth
Not a piece of meat
we are working human beings
hot dog, bacon – wait
No vaccine – no fuck
go ahead – do your research
no heads – google it!
Sex toys on the rise
fuck! why so damn expensive?
will have to stay dry
Not ready for hugs
definitely not kissing
COVID still lurking
Yellow hair – red crocs
perplexed – did he take vaccine?
seem scientific
Appeared to be whipped
illusive strikes – blacks go back!
need kind magicians
Del Rio crossing
present day Middle Passage
land instead of sea
Lorraine Garnett is a nanny in Brooklyn. She has previously worked as a preschool teacher, after-school supervisor, and summer-camp activities director. Her poems are published in Coronavirus Haiku, a Workers Writers School anthology, and Good Cop/Bad Cop (FlowerSong Press). Her poems are also forthcoming in I Can’t Breathe: Poetic Anthology of Fresh Air (Kistrech Poetry). She has read her poems at a number of venues including the Workers United Film Festival, Berl’s Brooklyn Poetry Shop, and the Crush Reading Series at Woodbine. Born and raised in Jamaica, WI, Garnett currently lives in Brooklyn, New York.