Two poems by Brett Sullivan Santry.
"Often, during the pandemic"
I wished that my mask fit better,
Was big enough to cover my long face,
Kept my sunglasses from fogging up,
And was made of a tasteful, uniform black,
Easing the slide of your eyes away from the
Barrier between us,
But then the sour-faced medical tech
In the check-out line opposite
So quietly, so delicately sings along
As Michael Jackson belts "The Way You Make Me Feel."
When our eyes meet, the moment they dourly mutter
Just hold me baby and I’m. in. ec. sta. sy.
I know I cannot hide forever. ▲
"I made a shirt today"
Ok, so I sewed on a button
But the shirt was unwearable without it
And it needed my help
So I asked where the sewing kit's kept
And after being asked why
I took a needle and I took some thread and I took a seat and I took my time
too much effort
I made a shirt today. ▲
Brett Sullivan Santry is a Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania native. He holds MFA and MLitt degrees from Mary Baldwin University’s Shakespeare in Performance program in Staunton, VA, as well as a BA in Playwriting and Directing from Goddard College, in Plainfield, VT. His most cherished honorifics, however, are those of father to Ivy and husband to Holly.