N.J. Hynes is a poet born in Minnesota and based in London. The poem discussed in this essay is from her new pamphlet, “Tracking Light, Stacking Time.”
That first pandemic summer I sat at home, as instructed, listening. Went outside my flat on foot, shopping for myself and neighbors who were sheltering. When I walked through the park, I was struck by how clean it was — no coffee cups, crisp packets or sandwich wrappers. But soon new litter appeared, along with police tape over the park benches so no one could sit down. Single disposable gloves, dropped deliberately or through carelessness, contaminated or clean, anxiety in every latexed pore. And then face masks, cloth or paper, patterned or plain.
