Quarentine Poem

It has been like a million years since I have posted on this site for you. That is about to change. I also feel I have been in quarantine for a million years. But it feels okay, not lonely, just contemplative. Here is a poem about living in quarantine at Ruckle Road:

Ruckle Road Quarantine

My street is always deserted, that’s nothing new

what is empty is my table; too early for flowers

too dangerous for friends.


Yet, my kitchen, this sanctuary where I linger

to find my flavor of quiet-solitude brims

with the aroma of yeast and honey.


I turn the sticky dough and it clings to my fingers

warm and familiar, so much like the skin

of the grandkids, I long to touch.


Soon my kitchen will brim with English muffins

that I will freeze for a time where flowers

bloom and wine will flow again in company








By ameliadiazettinger

Amelia Díaz Ettinger was born in Mexico but was raised with her paternal family in Puerto Rico, where she grew up as a single child in a large, male-dominated, family. At nineteen she ran away to Washington State, to pursue a Master’s of Science in Biology and to liberate herself from the hermetic hold the island, and her family had on her. Currently, she is finishing her first year in Eastern’s MFA program in creative writing. Her poetry and short stories have appeared in journals and anthologies. Her first collection of poetry was published in 2015 by RedBat Press, Speaking at a Time. Learning to Love a Western Sky will be available this fall from Airlie Press, and Fossils on a Red Flag will be available from Finishing Line Press next year.

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