Today I broke my quarantine, 
Left my home and my cat
And my neighborhood --
The quiet and tranquil West Village --
That sheltered me from the viral storm 
These past few months 
And headed off to see
The buildings that I own in Brooklyn. 

Was that the reason why I went?
It’s hard to say. 
My property manager could have gone alone,
As she has done before,
And, sure, I told myself,
I have a piece of paper in my bag that says that I’m a landlord
And allows me to provide essential services to my tenants
Just in case someone stops and asks me
Why in the world I am going to Brooklyn. 

But the real reason why I put on that ugly mask and those blue rubber gloves
And ran down the steps of the West 4th Street subway station before switching to a taxi
When I found out that the F train was running on the D track (no surprise there)
Was because I wanted to make sure that the city that I loved so much 
Was still there, standing tall and proud,
After all the deaths and all the damage that was done. 

And then, as my cab mounted the Manhattan bridge, 
I saw it, New York City,
Like the Sun bursting from the sky in all its glory --
The Brooklyn Bridge, Lady Liberty, the East River 
Where they shoot off the fireworks on the Fourth of July — 
Just the way it was before.  
And then, in Brooklyn, I saw the joggers and the riders
And the couples hand in hand walking their dogs 
And the people squeezing in the door of the bagel shop
Down the street from the block where my buildings were still standing 
And the FedEx trucks and the delivery guys and the bike messengers
Filling the streets just like they had before.
 
And suddenly my heart leapt like a happy dolphin
And I knew in an instant that the apocalypse was over 
And that the city that I love so much,
The city that even in its darkest hour is the envy of all the world,
The city of strivers, of dreamers, of survivors,
My city -- New York City -- was still alive
And always would be.


Rosalind Resnick 
May 7, 2020

​

On the other side of the mirror 
You used to wait for me 
As my train pulled into Santa Maria Novella station. 
Tired and hungry but so happy to see you,
I would kiss your sweet lips as I melted into your arms
And then we’d grab a pizza and check into Room 411
Where our love, like magic, was renewed,
And would begin again. 

Now that station, once so full of life, is empty
Except for police with sticks and masks.
There are no planes or trains 
To reconnect lovers who live on opposite sides 
Of that great ocean. 
All that remains are the vacant buildings where people once stood and played
And lovers with cones of gelato trickling down their fingers once kissed
By the statue of the porcellino. 

On the other side of the mirror,
It seemed like thousands of years went by 
As constellations chased each other across the universe
And every moment that  we spent together
Was like a magic lozenge sweet with rays of setting sun. 

On this side of the mirror,
There is no magic or fantasy. 
Days move quickly and night comes before I realize that morning has already departed 
And the only sounds are the shrieks of ambulances taking the sick away
And the silence of quarantines
That imprison beating hearts
And turn hot tears of separation
To cold and dusty memories
On the other side of the mirror 
Where all has been forgotten.

Rosalind Resnick
April 30, 2020

​

Alone in my house,
On a day that could have been my last,
A day of sickness and of death,
Of bodies piling up around the world on CNN,
A day that I, too, could have woken up feverish 
And coughing and barely breathing,
I decided that now might be as good a time as any 
To paint my bathroom yellow. 

Now I realize that, for others,
That day might have been better spent in prayer
Or solemn reflection of sins yet unrepented,
A day of singing songs of hope from balconies 
Or clapping for doctors and nurses or beating drums,
But I, instead, alone at home,
Chose to spend that precious day that could have been my last, 
Painting my bathroom yellow.

With no higher purpose than to find some paint, a roller and a brush, 
I went downstairs and found a can half full of paint
The color of the Sun drawn by a Crayola crayon.
I brought the can upstairs, dipped in my brush and began to stroke the wall with color. 
And, when I did, the dread of death and loneliness began to melt away 
Until the whole room began to blaze with golden fervor.
When I was done, I realized that the day was gone 
And it was night and I had spent the day,
That precious day that could have been my last,
Free of fear and full of love, 
Painting my bathroom yellow.


Rosalind Resnick
April 16, 2020

​

Non ho occhi che per te, 
ma tu non ci sei.
Senza più il dono della vista, arranco sul proscenio della vita 
Cercando te,
l'unica protagonista 
La stella che illumina la vista 
L' unica capace di dar forma alle cose
L'unica capace di dare un senso alle cose.
 
Ciro De Martino
Feb. 14, 2018
 
Translated into English by Rosalind Resnick

Like Tiresias 

I have no eyes for anyone but you,
You who are not here with me today. 
Bereft of sight,
I trudge across the stage of life
Seeking you,
My heroine, my one and only,
The shining star who guides my journey. 
You alone give shape to being. 
You alone give life its meaning.

​Go the extra mile. 
That's what they teach you
In school, 
In sports,
On a hike at Girl Scout camp. 
Don't stop
No matter how much
Your feet hurt,
No matter how tired, 
How sick,
How sad you are,
No matter much you would rather
Stay in bed
And call in sick. 
Get up, get dressed, 
Go out into the world.
Let the frigid wind
Lash your back,
Chill your bones,
Freeze your breath
And, after you have walked
To the ends of the Earth
And you can walk 
No farther,
I say go --
Go the extra mile.
 
 
Rosalind Resnick
Jan. 2, 2018
 

You came as a wolf,
I dressed as a witch,
Masked revelers
In a sea of a faces. 

You grabbed my hips
And pulled me toward you
In the darkness,
You who knew me only as a witch. 

I offered you my painted lips
And felt instead your teeth
Upon my neck,
I who knew you only as a wolf. 

And then you kissed me,
My blood on your tongue,
The twinning of two souls,
The taste of deep desire. 

It was then that I knew
That I had found you
And that you had found me
On Halloween night 
In a crowd of revelers. 

Rosalind Resnick
Oct. 24, 2017

Lover,
You slip through my fingers
Like moonlight in water.
You are so close that I can touch you
And yet, when I reach for you,
You slip away. 

Present yet absent,
Your words set my heart ablaze
Like a roaring Jack o' Lantern
On Halloween night. 
Then, like shadows on the wall,
They disappear among the embers. 

Absent yet present,
You slink around forbidden corners of my psyche
Like a black cat
Exploring my secrets in love's dark alleys
Until I yield my deepest desires. 
Penetrating my silence,
You fill me with joy. 

A blue rose rises
From the well of souls. 

Rosalind Resnick
Oct. 10, 2017

Friends,
When you met me,
I was bleeding in the street
But you did not know that
Because I was standing smiling in the door to greet you.

Friends,
When you entered my home,
I was a prisoner of my desires
But you did know that
Because I felt free to reveal myself in your presence.

Friends,
When we sat down and wrote,
I was afraid to put my thoughts in words
But you did not know that
Because poems tumbled from my lips in rhyme and metaphor.

Friends,
When it is time to say goodbye,
I will disappear into the air
But you will not know that
Because the spirit I have left lives on in all of you.

Rosalind Resnick
Aug. 15, 2017