I Haven’t Had An Oyster All Year

I don’t know what we’ll call this
later. “Living through a war?”
Too elevated.
Your grandma would call this
putting on airs.
Mostly I’ve gained weight
become quieter while
witness to other people’s
despair dressed in illness
or money crisis or death

I always hoped if I lived
through a war I would
do it with a certain aplomb
like the Russian aristocrat
whose Berlin diary I read–
walking to hat fittings
through rubble of bombed streets
plotting to assassinate Hitler
then planning a party
with oysters and champagne

at least, tucked away and cold,
there is a bottle of champagne
just waiting for a thing
to celebrate