In Times of Perpetual Lockdown
ANDREW C . BROWN
In times of perpetual lockdown
I listen to the words of Patrick Jones
as Helen watches Escape to the Chateau.
Welsh Patrick visited me in my convict bones
jingling, jangling his metres of metre in my milieu.
Empathetic support and mentoring manipulated meaning
for living life. Both, in their own way, Helen and Patrick
allow alternative start, cleansing addictions, outsourcing
cobwebs, searing similes, morphing metaphors, hat-trick
performance, Patrick, Helen, and me, together in
wartime effort to blitz interminable illness
postulating abstinence bartering sin
tidying existential mess.
Apparently, we are all in it together
Empathy, encouragement and every
admiration for addicts maintaining
abstinence. Just for today people.
Daily reprieve. Again. Grocery
home delivery email thirteen
substitutions. Original order
chaos. Not too bad but how
can I possibly explain? It
will be no substitute, not
for the couple of bottles
of Sauvignon…wish me
luck…stay safe all of us –
In hope it was wrongly addressed delivery
There are few deliveries in this virulent time.
Banal. No more anticipation. Guesses. What
does the envelope hold? I shed tremor when
you opened the letter. ‘Vulnerable’ grenade.
Single word menu can serve depression dose
teaspoonful time. Drip-feed delight. Vacuous
ventilator seemingly the beating throb of life.
Prescriptive panacea. Thirsty hallucination of
mirage induced survival hope without reason.
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