L I S A   D O M I N G U E Z   A B R A H A M

I rarely get lucky enough to write a whole poem in one sitting. Mostly, I jot notes on post-its or into my phone, then return to them sporadically to see what they might reveal. I’m a very slow writer, so sometimes notes and drafts will languish for years before I get a sense of how to develop them.

The “Virus” poem was sparked by my writing group’s prompt to address the pandemic. To do so, I re-examined a short poem I wrote as part of an artist-writer exhibit. For that event, I was given a painting to respond to called “The Road Less Traveled,” a lovely rendition of hills like the ones I hiked while growing up. Even as a child I wondered what the area looked like before it was colonized. The virus metaphor helped me expand upon those musings.

I wasn’t raised in any religion, so now that I’ve entered my 60s, I’ve begun to wonder whether, once I’m past this life, I might still be of service to my family. For part of “Just Arrived,” I returned to a sketch that never felt complete. Now, as the second section of this longer piece, it feels like it’s found its home.