HAY(NA)KU IN THE TIME OF COVID-19 by REBECCA MABANGLO MAYOR

Meritage Press' Minitage Editions is pleased to present a new poetry collection. The author Rebecca Mabanglo-Mayor wrote these poems in April (National Poetry Month) 2020 in the form of the hay(na)ku (including variations):

Hay(na)ku in the Time of COVID-19

By Rebecca Mabanglo-Mayor

Here are some photos of the miniature book sized 1-7/8" x 2.25"

The following presents all of the poems in the book--we thank Rebecca Mabanglo-Mayor for sharing them with us:

Last Words

What

words can

capture spring rains,

gently swaying branches,

when the

heart

yearns

for routines

that can never

be redeemed or

futures already

abandoned?

Forthcoming in Alone Together: Love, Grief, and Comfort in the Time of COVID-19,

Jennifer Haupt, ed. (Central Avenue Publishing, Sept. 2020)

Allergies

Sloppy wet drops

jostle pollen

from

trees

and into

my itchy eyes. 

Grocery Run

Without
a list,
it is difficult
to remember every
item needed.
There’s
no
telling, though,
when another trip
could safely yield
the missing
goods.

Exhalation

Sunlit

blossoms nod

their heads to

the beat of

Spring’s bluesy

jazz.

Distancing

Time

folds in

on itself muffling

perception like a 

homemade fabric

mask.

Sidewalk Dance

Purple

phlox in

full bloom rock

to rhythms set

by spring

breezes

while

daring squirrels

steal food left

for nesting crows

who caw

distress.

Pandemic Remark

Ordinary

people will

die. Ordinary people 

survive. Ordinary people 

won’t know

why.

Rhodys

Peach-pink

blooms delight

my eyes but

itch my nose

in futile

protest.

Garden Venus

The squirrel perched

on her

concrete

head

but she

didn’t mind his

paws. In fact,

she seemed

amused

by

his energetic

and frenetic antics.

Glad Return

I’d

forgotten about

bumblebee butts, charming

as they are,

until I

heard

buzzing

near my

rhody and saw

the drunken pompom

busily gathering

pollen.

Harmony

Cooperation

begins with

knowing our survival

is assured when

resources are

shared,

freely

when we 

look at each 

other without fear, 

prejudice or

animosity.

Chores

Clearing

winter from

the window corners,

like dusty cobwebs,

brings Spring

inside.

Celebrations

Sun-splashed 

leaves. Lawn 

mowers buzzing while 

children master their 

bicycle skills 

nearby. 

Gardeners 

tote tools, 

push wheelbarrows full 

of clippings, seed 

starts, and 

optimism. 

His 

coffee cools 

beside mine as 

my computer hums, 

chimes near 

his.

Simple Hope

Planting
dahlias in
Spring sunshine while
Roxii sniffs primroses
between her
paws.

Saturday Nap

Sleeping

during daylight

hours requires dark

curtains, a soft

pillow and

exhaustion.

Strangely

social distancing

provides the necessary

psychic weariness and

physical idleness

needed.

Fence Line

Crows
patrol like
faithful soldiers maintaining
order while squirrels
scamper past
chaotically.

Writer's Block 

Bees
search unopened
buds for sweetness
like I search
for vibrant
words.

Torn

In
the waiting,
I wonder whether
freedom will come
all at
once
or
piecemeal like
quilted tapestries stitched
with ragged memories
of life
before.

Change

Decrepit
thoughts give
way to discoveries
like spring-soaked
loam to
sprouts.

Fruitless

Is

it really

procrastination to scroll,

scroll, scroll over

and over

if

you

can’t get

past the deep

self-doubt you feel

surrounding you

inside?

Exhaustion

Slate

grey sky,

flat and featureless,

covers my sights

of sunnier

futures.

Dense

and unmoving,

I struggle to

feel a breeze

that brings

relief.

Philosophers’ Conundrum

Of all the 

futures that 

never 

were, 

I wonder, 

which past moments 

have already become 

this present 

instant? 

Or 

are they 

always already here?

Hopefulness

Words

spill like

spring rain drenching

the parched earth

of my

manuscript.

Characters

speak, move,

learn, worry, decide,

depending on my

strange narrative

flow.

Helplessness

Stark

white linoleum

bounced the pings

and buzzes from

dozens of

monitors

along

the emergency

wing where he

stood waiting, waiting

waiting for

word

about

not one

but two loved

ones struck down

in one

afternoon.

Materia Magica

Waves

strike the

lip of my

bottle, filling it

with water

pushed

by

high tide,

gathered as a

blessing in this

time of

uncertainty.

Error 404: Cataloger’s Lament

Data

may be

just a series

of ones and

zeroes, but

if

those

bits don’t

line up into

bytes then the

data is

useless.

Palimpsest

Life

isn’t scripted

like a movie

but lived moment

by moment

despite

uncertainties

that diminish,

transform, shift, and

illuminate the tangible

qualities of

existence.

Lost

Somehow,

in the 

bustle of Sunday,

between chores and

shopping for

cereal,

I

forgot to

jot down these

words or lost

them while

cleaning.

Fortified

Sardines and rice,

my mother’s

comfort

food,

once eaten

in secret, shame,

at home, where

offended noses

would

not

lift haughtily

because the smell

was beneath them.

Salted tomatoes

complete

my

delight here

where love surrounds.

Editing

One
word, where
six once were,
declares itself victorious
in its
brevity.

Meggie O'Niell

Ghosts
given Kindness
find their homes.



Henry Stack 

Crow feathers protect
blind men's
dreams.

Six

Six-

feet distant

is not enough

to keep your

cold neglect

away.

Rebecca Mabanglo-Mayor’s non-fiction, poetry, and short fiction have appeared in print and online in several journals and anthologies including Katipunan Literary Magazine, Growing Up Filipino II: More Stories for Young Adults, Kuwento: Small Things, and Beyond Lumpia, Pansit, and Seven Manangs Wild: An Anthology. Her poetry chapbook Pause Mid-Flight was released in 2010. She is also the co-editor of True Stories: The Narrative Project Vol. I and II, and her poetry and essays were collected in Dancing Between Bamboo Poles in 2019.