Collective poem from the Zoem online Poetry Reading group, July 17, 2020

What is in your 2020 time capsule?

2020 time capsule. 
Zoom rooms, 
zombies in masks, 
refrigerator trucks.

Our 2020 time capsule would be filled 
with longing for the time before 2016, 
with sadness and anger that we didn’t speak up sooner, 
love each other harder, and
never give in to the lies around us.

2020 time capsule would contain 
poop, crap, shit, feces, 
with a smiley face next to a photo of Fauci

2020 time capsule:
Passing margaritas down the bar in Austin in February, 
taking a sip of each.
Standing at the sink, 
just me and the dog; 
it’s July already. 
I’m washing limes from the grocery store,
once, twice, 
until they’re safe enough to cut through to eat.

If 2020 is half over, is it now 1010?

2020 time capsule: 
Crowdsourced bail funds, 
less-lethal rounds, 
Clorox

2020 time capsule holds:
Standardized tests –
an inhumane archaic practice 
they used to control 
the minds of youth,
a method of teaching
finally abolished
in the aftermath
of a pandemic.

2020 time capsule: 
student debt with 1000 years interest

my 2020 time capsule will contain: 
a bit of moon-colored fur from Felix Cat; 
a sliver from all 3 eclipses; 
a crumpled 1st draft poem, 
a stimulus check-stub, long ago spent; 
a screen-shot of my Zoem Tribe

by the Zoem Poets