S T O R I E S   I N   T H E   T I M E  O F   A   P A N D E M I C

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A N G E L A     B R O O K S

 

 

Funny how soon normal creeps up on us
and clears away the strangeness
with each sweep of the broom.
The sky looks the same as it did,
we walk, side by side, as we did.
And the death toll mounts
the police checks grow –
and we can measure metres without a rule
(though we did feet and inches when at school)
We learn to use Whatsapp and Skype,
just to see our families’ faces.
then we disinfect our phones, wipe away the traces.
We’re told to wash our hands for twenty secs
and obedience – unnatural – is what the world expects.
Strangers shop for strangers and an obedient population
applauds an institution on demand,
at a given time
Then we go back into our houses
close the doors and lockdown the doors
consider the unseen enemy, and,
once again, mop the floors

 

 

 

 

 


 

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