A Common Cold
BY JANE HIRSHFIELD
A common cold, we say—
common, though it has encircled the globe
seven times now handed traveler to traveler
though it has seen the Wild Goose Pagoda in Xi'an
seen Piero della Francesca’s Madonna del Parto in Monterchi
seen the emptied synagogues of Krasnogruda
seen the since-burned souk of Aleppo
A common cold, we say—
common, though it is infinite and surely immortal
common because it will almost never kill us
and because it is shared among any who agree to or do not agree to
and because it is unaristocratic
reducing to redness both profiled and front-viewed noses
reducing to coughing the once-articulate larynx
reducing to unhappy sleepless turning the pillows of down,
of wool, of straw, of foam, of kapok
A common cold, we say—
common because it is cloudy and changing and dulling
because there are summer colds, winter colds, fall colds,
colds of the spring
because these are always called colds, however they differ
beginning sore-throated
beginning sniffling
beginning a little tired or under the weather
beginning with one single innocuous untitled sneeze
because it is bane of usually eight days’ duration
and two or three boxes of tissues at most
The common cold, we say—
and wonder, when did it join us
when did it saunter into the Darwinian corridors of the human
do manatees catch them do parrots I do not think so
and who named it first, first described it, Imhotep, Asclepius,
Zhongjing
and did they wonder, is it happy sharing our lives
as generously as inexhaustibly as it shares its own
virus dividing and changing while Piero’s girl gazes still
downward
five centuries still waiting still pondering still undivided
while in front of her someone hunts through her opening pockets for tissues
for more than one reason once
