Today, we are sharing a poem that was previously published in Folio 2020, a special chapbook edition of our sister journal Kalliope. Folio is a printed booklet that publishes shorter works and greyscale art. For the Fall 2020 edition, quarantine-themed submissions were encouraged, and Klio wanted to share one of Folio’s amazing poems on our blog!
“Routine” is a pandemic-inspired poem written by Ayden Herold, a freshman here at Penn State University Park. It captures the thoughts of fear and panic surrounding the COVID-19 virus and the effect it has been having on peoples’ lives.
Along with his written poem, we are also including Herold’s spoken version of it.
Listen to Ayden Herold read Routine:
I AM UNCLEAN.
I AM UNCLEAN.
WASH YOUR HANDS.
SANITIZE IF YOU CAN.
The alarms scream in my head as I barge through my door.
DO NOT TOUCH YOUR MASK UNTIL YOU ARE CLEAN.
I can feel my breath blowing into my eyes as I hyperventilate. They water and obstruct my tearing through the kitchen. My elbows scramble and scrabble at the hot water knob, for I cannot touch it with my fingers. The white noise of water fills my ears as I cower over the sink, and my hands embrace the beam of purification.
THE SOAP. THE SOAP.
Not a whole three seconds have passed before I am rubbing soap into my skin, letting it cleanse the toxicities that threaten my livelihood, and my parents’ livelihoods, and their parents’ livelihoods.
WHERE IS IT? FIND IT.
Even after my hands have been rinsed free of soap and impurities, I am unclean. I can feel it. There is some spot I left soiled, and it will niggle into the back of my mind like needlepoint until I can find it. Even now, wherever it is, I can feel the germs spreading across me, across my home, sinking their fangs deep into my universe.
IT MUST BE HERE SOMEWHERE.
My cracked hands are clean now, despite this. The white and peeling skin is worth the cleanliness that steaming hot water brings. The little scabs across my knuckles can be sanitized at a moment’s notice, and I will be purified again.
GET IT OFF ME.
I begin to settle down now, and slip my mask free. My guardian. It is a shame to dispose of it, but there is nothing else to be done. Carefully, I lower the device into my trash can by its thin, white wires. It drops off my fingers without a sound, and I am free. I mute the voices in my head and inhale the fresh, clean air of my home.
Now… where was I?
Ayden Herold is a freshman at University Park and is currently on track to major in Communications & Journalism. His favorite genres to write in include fantasy and horror fiction as well the occasional poem or song. Outside of writing, he enjoys listening to new music, playing video games, and hanging around with friends.
Check out Klio’s podcasts to look and listen to more poetry!