Featured Poet - Vasti Carrion
COVID-MASKS MASKED A WOMAN
Her Covid-19 mask,
Changed her appearance as
Would a plastic surgeon.
The COVID mask lied about
Her physical appearance
The pandemic turned her into a patient,
A patient walking by and by, committing errands,
It reminded her of a religion, maybe Covid masks hide her feeling,
maybe the mask says it all
Or maybe a Covid mask can turn to a religion,
That purifies a woman and hides her image,
For Mr. Vain sake.
When the earth is diseased,
And you gravitate the globe in a surgical mask
The Covid restrictions are your doctor’s
Prescription,
That withholds your smile from your strangers
En route Metro bus routes,
And the word “grave”
Is gray in color,
Your smile blending in to Covid signs
That mandate you to wear
Your smile on your shoulder, but not on your face,
And the sanitizer that makes you think,
If it is the Covid-19’s pandemic’s perfume,
And if Covid is a housewife and a woman,
To sanitize the viruses of a world,
Making the world your home,
With a pandemic (Covid-19) being a homemaker!
HEART DIGESTION
I ate a poem and it went through my heart,
It was digested, by my myocardium
pumped blood on the poem,
The heart's blood cells gnawed the poem,
my heart was digesting
the poem through my heart,
My poem
was chewed in the heart,
It's nutrients began to dissolve
as the paper dissipated,
releasing the meaning
and skipping to the song
of love, carried by the poem,
as it carried
The vitamins of meaning
by the paper.
written by the poet!
The poem is digesting
It's words are breaking
in my heart
And traveling through the veins
and conclaves and valves,
the mechanism that is turning
my poem into energy
because my heart is my stomach
And there is a poem that went to my heart,
which my heart digested!
SCRUB
The St. Ives Apricot scrub
In gentle counter clockwise
Strokes,
and tap -dancing-water from
The Department of Water and Power
removed my dead skin cells
at 11:43 pm,
as the summer moon
surfs the stars
in the night sky,
with gravity, where the moon dwells
rejuvenating,
my soft skin becoming seamless
and gentler and squeakier
cleaner
From yesterday debris,
Every exfoliation,
Is a new life,
a dawn,
Opening the sky
as the moon retires
from the spotlight of the day
and my Alien skin
becomes familiar,
Tonight I will need
another apricot scrub
exfoliation
like a proper
burial for your dead skin cells
for a new day; therefore,
new life and new skin cells.
ABOUT THE POET: My pen name is: Acton Bell and I have been a published poet since the age of 17. I'm a contributor to five poetry anthologies: Family, No More Stolen Sisters, Intensity and Beyond Words, and Poets For Peace Facebook Anthology. I had a poem published in U.S Poetry magazine (waxpoetryart.com) called Afro-Latina.
E: carrionvasti601@gmail.com
FB: @vasti.carrion
CLICK HERE. to read an interview with Vasti
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