equinox
trying to find
a new balance
as the ground shifts
under our feet
death
of our old ways
an eggshell blue sky
out-breath
longer than the in-breath
calming myself
with glimmers of hope
as the death toll peaks
washing my hands
nothing is normal
any more
each day
a few more new leaves
on the rowan tree
spring birdsong
voice
of the postman
faces at windows
looking out over
the silent city
so many people with me
in this solitary life
flattening
the curve
a pink moon rising
if you go out
tomorrow afternoon
there's a chance
of catching...
a few showers
what alternate
universe is this
where the good news is
the Prime Minister
can breathe unaided?
making do
with what I have
for a while
I watch a blackbird gather
dry grass strands
waiting for
today's death toll
forget-me-nots
surreal spring
even the Easter bunny
wears a face mask
relentless
the tide of awful news
tonight
there is a paper-lantern
softness to the moon
cinnamon apples
shades of autumn
in this spring
in the time
of social distancing
a hermit
what is it
that you are doing
in the way
that blossom
is opening?
windless day
waiting for this too
to pass
excess deaths...
I take a breath before
wave after wave
of statistics
wash over me
statistics -
so far two names
I recognise
courtly lovers
in our spring isolation
we send
seductive words
but never meet
breaking news
a pigeon lands
on a slender branch
-
protesting
against the laws
of science
demanding
the right to freedom
from responsibility
loudly denying
that they are
in denial
-
pandemic dream
I find the courage to deny
the value
of this experience
we're going through
isolating alone -
one minute's silence
among so many others
passers-by
regarding each other
with suspicion
those who wear masks
and those who don't
glimmers of hope
as cases
plateau
but then the news
from the care homes
after the lockdown
we must take the first
uncertain steps
learning to dance
with the virus
waking up
to a new message
stay alert!
as if I wasn't
hypervigilant already
after isolation
he comments on
how good it is
to be back among
the living
the nightmare
used to be a mushroom cloud
but now we find
the fallout in the air
is our own breath
Initially I wrote about lockdown, about the news as the pandemic spread, about social distancing. As time has gone on there have been fewer direct mentions of these things but more poems that could have been written at any time, but that take on a different or extra layer of meaning if the context is known.
a last image
from before the world
changed
a blackbird bathes
in an overflowing pot
pandemic dream
I find the courage to deny
the value
of this experience
we're going through
isolating alone -
one minute's silence
among so many others
passers-by
regarding each other
with suspicion
those who wear masks
and those who don't
glimmers of hope
as cases
plateau
but then the news
from the care homes
after the lockdown
we must take the first
uncertain steps
learning to dance
with the virus
waking up
to a new message
stay alert!
as if I wasn't
hypervigilant already
after isolation
he comments on
how good it is
to be back among
the living
the nightmare
used to be a mushroom cloud
but now we find
the fallout in the air
is our own breath
Initially I wrote about lockdown, about the news as the pandemic spread, about social distancing. As time has gone on there have been fewer direct mentions of these things but more poems that could have been written at any time, but that take on a different or extra layer of meaning if the context is known.
a last image
from before the world
changed
a blackbird bathes
in an overflowing pot
I am now going to close this collection.
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