Inside

A poem about covid-19

The biggest worry
Is the smallest thing
A fragment of life’s molecular engine
Broken free and gone rogue
Come to destroy, break, imprison.

Lets pinch the pads of thumb and index finger,
Then separate gently to form a millimeter gap
Stop and look
And think …

I will divide this gap by one thousand
And taking the resultant shard,
I will divide it further into ten pieces
This is where you will find the virus
In its lair

In my mind I roll the poison phial
As if a pearl or diamond were there
Or a rosary
Savour the smallness
But no jewel, only unwelcome grit.

A gun’s cylinder with 100 chambers
And 2 bullets
Spin, hold the gun to your head and pull the trigger
Click, or your world explodes.
Or stay at home.

Breathing in, breathing out
The invasion comes by nose or mouth
it slips inside

Together we fight this war
Between this thing and all of us

But the real battle is fought hand to hand
It and me
It and you
Inside

Do poems need to rhyme? Probably not. Perhaps these are not poems, more soliloquies. Short monologues on something that feels important and has to be written. Writing prose, untangling ideas into logic sequences, that has a place. But poetry is liberating and expresses more richly some thing. It lets you approach at an angle, with no particular rule other than locating and writing all the nuances, colours and feelings that surround that some thing.