Quarantine
- Eavan Bolan

In the worst hour of the worst season
    of the worst year of a whole people
a man set out from the workhouse with his wife.
He was walking-they were both walking-north.

She was sick with famine fever and could not keep up.
    He lifted her and put her on his back.
He walked like that west and north.
Until at nightfall under freezing stars they arrived.

In the morning they were both found dead.
    Of cold. Of hunger. Of the toxins of a whole history.
But her feet were held against his breastbone.
The last heat of his flesh was his last gift to her.

Let no love poem ever come to this threshold.
    There is no place here for the inexact
praise of the easy graces and sensuality of the body.
There is only time for this merciless inventory:

Their death together in the winter of 1847.
    Also what they suffered. How they lived.
And what there is between a man and a woman.
And in which darkness it can best be proved.

Writing suggestions:

1.  Eaven Boland often writes of her native Ireland.  What about your family history?  If you know names, dates and locations can you "fill in the gaps?"  First try making a fast write list (NO CENSORING!) then arrange those thoughts into a poem.

2.  Does your family line carry the toxins of a whole history?  Explore that in a 20 minute fast write.

3.  What's the oldest generation of family you remember?  Are there any stories, family lore or otherwise, that stick in your mind?  Write it down, giving yourself permission to be creative.

4.  How did your grandparents meet?  Try writing a piece of their relationship in dialogue.  You may want to try writing about their young lives.

5.  As always, follow your muse!