Without any warning, the disease
sweeps across the country
like a traveling circus.
People who were once blue,
who slouched from carrying
a bag of misery over one shoulder
are now clinically cheerful.
Symptoms include kind gestures,
a bouncy stride, a smile
bigger than a slice of canteloupe.
You pray that you will be infected,
hope a happy germ invades your body
and multiplies, spreading merriment
to all your major organs
like door-to-door Christmas carolers
until the virus finally reaches your heart:
that red house at the end of the block
where your deepest wishes reside,
where a dog howls behind a gate
every time that sorrow
pulls his hearse up the driveway.
– David Hernandez
David Hernandez’s most recent collection of poems, Hello I Must Be Going (Pitt Poetry Series, 2022), was a finalist for the National Book Critics Circle Award. David has been awarded an NEA Literature Fellowship and two Pushcart Prizes. His poems have appeared in Iowa Review, Kenyon Review, Poetry, Ploughshares and Southern Review. David teaches creative writing at California State University, Long Beach and is married to writer Lisa Glatt.