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February 7- February 25, 2022
Chesterfield, Derbyshire, England
Athena M. Kaiman’s poem “Empty” was selected for inclusion in an exhibit to highlight food insecurity.

EMPTY

The rivers have dried,

The crops have failed,

The seasons have blurred,

To no avail,

What shall we eat,

The shelves now empty,

We used to be known,

As the land of plenty.

Athena M. Kaiman

A MESSAGE ABOUT COP26 GLASGOW ON CLIMATE CHANGE

‘TWAS THE NIGHT BEFORE CHRISTMAS, PARODY

December 24, 2021

‘Twas the night before Christmas,
When throughout the CDC,
Not a scientist was stirring,
Not even a pot of tea.

The microscopes were laid out,
On the lab tables with care,
In the hopes that Dr. Fauci,
Soon would be there.

The omicron variant left patients unconscious in their beds,
The sound of ventilators ringing in their heads,
The nurses in scrubs were all out of breath,
As they knew not how to save the patients from death.

Suddenly on the CDC roof there arose such a clatter,
Several scientists went running to see what was the matter,
I myself ran to the window to see,
When a blustering breeze blew my mask off of me.

The moon on the puddles in the CDC lot,
Made it feel like mid-day when I’d park in my spot,
When what to my wondering eyes did appear,
A Sikorsky-92 chopper with a full team grew near.

Out came a tiny old man with botox and implants,
Dressed in a shiny black suit, who gave me a glance,
Faster than eagles his staff all they came,
He whistled and shouted and called each by name!

Now Tom! Now Jim! Stella and Lillian!
On Bob! On Hugo! On Sam and Vivian!
To the stairwells we go! To the highest of floors!
Now dash away! Dash away! Dash away all!

And as leaves circle and spin in tornadoes in December,
No obstacles stopped the team’s ability to remember,
How to hurriedly get to the uppermost floors,
Dr. Fauci and his team burst through the stairwell doors.

And then in a moment I heard on the roof,
The officious blustering, they had the proof,
As I drew my head in and began turning around,
Dr. Fauci appeared coming in with a bound.

Dressed in Dolce & Gabbana, not a hair out of place,
He was holding something precious in his leather briefcase,
His eyes how they twinkled, his cheeks tried to smile,
But the botox left his face frozen, in a grimace for miles.

His toupee fit perfectly on top of his head,
It somehow relaxed me instead of bringing me dread,
He took out a pipe, which a team member lit,
And he took a few puffs, keeping it between his tight lips.

He was jolly in spite of the dire situation abound,
Perhaps from all the money of the virus’ last go around,
He was thin as a rail and as short as an elf,
And I chuckled when I saw him in spite of myself.

He winked when he eyed my large ample breasts,
But I knew he was harmless, standing a foot below my chest,
He spoke not a word, his team ready to work,
His briefcase popped open with a sudden loud jerk.

Shiny new test tubes placed at each microscope station,
Held the cure for the dying omicron patients,
But how many times had we been here before,
Was it really the cure, or no cure at all?

When the test tubes were all sorted, he gave a loud whistle,
Back up the stairwells they left, like a very fast missile,
And I heard him exclaim before the chopper alighted,
“Happy Christmas to all and to all a good night!”

July 7, 2021

Published Poem “The Bridge” by The Organic Poet.

April 23, 2021

Destinies Radio Live Interview with Athena M. Kaiman

Listen Here!