The Global Vaccine Poem: I Miss Our Kind
I’m Danusha Laméris, and I live in the foothills of the Santa Cruz Mountains on a few acres. I have been lucky to have that space during the quarantine year. But I’ve really missed the unexpected contact with people, and at this moment, I am two days post my second dose.
I miss our kind. Remember
how awkward we were?
Too many people in a small café.
Bumping into someone
saying I’m sorry. Spilling popcorn
on a stranger in the dark.
We didn’t know how much
we needed each other.
Dear Vaccine, women once had
names like yours: Maxine, Doreen,
and Bernadine, which means
“strong as a bear.” I imagine you
lumbering through the wilds
of our cellular forests, showing the way
through thickets of berries
to fish-filled lakes.
Oh, lead us back to the wilderness
of touch, back into each other’s arms.
Take us to our green and possible life.