Time is sucking the marrow of her own cheek killing herself slowly.
In the tram across Waterloo bridge
a masked toddler spits on the seats
a frantic mother wipes it down with a leaflet on “safe spaces”, a woman left behind.
The sun drops her recycled sickly salmon gown
onto a bird -shitted window -now ringed worms of pink light
track the noose of pimples on a boy’s forehead your universe is elsewhere but only you seem to know
Might as well be raining you watch little birds peck plastic bags
sprawled on ghosted pavements .
Your mind leaps -a waterfall of bad juju ,
blasts through the cells of your straying intellect
the junkyard cherubs skateboard on fragile nerves
They beg for change and cigarettes nobody knows
how many people have succumbed – Britain travels around the pandemic
like a three limbed drunk donkey
who is infected who is not ?
At the supermarket
the daily choreographed ballet is in process
Six feet behind you and in front
there are two old buzzards circling the Irish Pub,
The fortune teller’s been furloughed no psychic detection
behind the tricksters lace curtains
A notice on the hairdressers : Closed Stay Safe See you soon
The dead meat of misinformation
sprawled around the neighbourhood
infects hearts and minds no sign of grannies or grandpas
anymore and the nail salons and brow bars are graffitied with hate
The bookstore is closed on the shelf I spy an old edition of 1984
And a platoon of flies police the ceiling lights
A cemetery of dead feelings stagnate the air and you wait for the womb of the night to hide .
Saira Viola
Artwork by eNdO