There is no science in daily tariffs
of death-by-country – our morbid
fascination pulls such in to dinnle
& talk [still kids die of preventable
pneumonia …/
I read that a 13-year old boy died alone
& aged souls will be let go [if there’s no
hope] to free machines & carers restrict
access even to medics & death is not a
sweetened ride for so many
…/
Foolishness had us locking fingers
into grips & crooks [urgent stuff of
other times when sex was not that
covetous act ] My mouth forms on
your name to recall our illicit graze.. /
Coupling bees are falling [Thut!]
Over-wrangled & humping – as if
there’s no tomorrow – they know
how things are & how things will
be – now our lives are set by rays… /
An aspen curse & other malices
grew among our fearful Easters
& sod all alters – we live effraide
since a plague is [again] among
us [under lockdown’s new rules]
…/
Number 8 Upper Uckfield Road
have laid a cross on their lawn –
it is cobbled from fence panels
I mistook it for a plague symbol… /
Our line [slightest sand] was crossed
& it was my transgression – my steps
to you & my selfish need to kiss – so I
broke Rule One …/
If you can read this poem
you should heed my advice,
give me some distance,
not Coronavirus.
Buy your advice .. here as a tee-shirt or mug … wear the advice
Everything will be alright – hope sits
between us – at nearly two metres/
Their rules demand flouting – as my
tea cools & your laughter rolls from
you – we deny all fears – no contrails
above – now – only our recalls taigle …/
Here were colours in sex [flesh-tones
first & then white clues of bone under
blonde hairs] – bent wheat – then curls
on skin …/