Dispatches: LA – Homebound Haiku by Amy Uyematsu
Homebound Haiku Unstoppable spring - burst of green on bare branches virus without bounds

Photo by Amy Uyematsu.
Which is scarier - bullets, viral pandemics, a mob ruled by fear No time to prepare - a self-absorbed president's lies and excuses Pandemic or not - the White House sees dollar signs downplays human life Still taking our walks we are struck by the orange of this spring's poppies Now that you stay home I am cooking up a storm - our waistlines thicken Is it only me - the clouds are more beautiful a stranger's smile too What deadly choices - not enough ventilators who's more deserving?

Cherry Blossoms from the book “Wise Trees.” Photo courtesy of Amy Uyematsu.
The streets so quiet no children at the playground but the bluest skies How to stay healthy - Netflix, old books, new poems sustain that deep breath No more zumba class - so last night I shut my door cha-cha'ed my heart out A two-month lockdown? Grandpa confined at Gila three relentless years I used to teach math but it took a pandemic for graphs to take hold Exponential curves - once incomprehensible, now daily fixtures These are the hard facts - I'm older than 65 may not make the cut Left in plastic bags on the streets of Ecuador - unthinkable end Find a way to smile look at something beautiful all the while grieving The cruelest spring - we watch the rising death toll, cherry blossoms too

Japanese maple leaves. Photo by Amy Uyematsu.
Amy Uyematsu 18 haiku, excerpts from 3/20/20-4/3/20
Poet’s Bio:
Amy Uyematsu is a Sansei poet and teacher from Los Angeles. She currently teaches a writing workshop at the Far East Lounge in Little Tokyo.
Cover Photo:

Downtown LA Skyline from LA City Market, 11th & S. San Pedro St. 2018. Photo by Eddie Wong.