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Professor Hilary Cremin, April 9, 2020
Bitey Poem
(to an imaginary group of friends)
I feel quite bitey at the moment!
Do any of you feel bitey?
Do you feel like,
You know, biting everything?
No?
No one?
I mean, look at the cat’s leg
Don’t you just want to bite it?
No?
Not relatable?
Well he’s bitten me lots of times!
Oh OK, I won’t bite the cat.
I mean, I’m not normally….
Yes, I was 2.
I know, I know
It needs to be something resistant
And a bit squidgy.
Maybe a ball?
I think if someone came to the door right now
(not that they would)
I would probably bite them.
I know, I know
Not really.
I am sure I can get a grip.
Will you come round?
That might help.
Ah yes you can’t.
When this is all over?
Well I know you will be busy.
Yes, OK I understand.
Ah well, when you have time then.
I suppose I ought to get back to work.
Yes, yes, I am quite busy actually,
I fact I have a F****** DEADLINE
FOR 4 PM TODAY.
(sounds of yelling and things being bitten).
War without Bullets
And the doctors
Hold hands
As souls unclip
From claggy bodies.
Rising into the air
Like so many planes.
One then another
A macabre line.
Queued on the runway
Filling their slot.
And the watch
Is still ticking
And the text
Is unanswered
And the bookmark
Still marks
And the doctor weeps
Second-best tears.
And the souls
Float free
Of cooling bodies.
And the virus,
Deadly passenger,
Has already moved on.
And beyond
Eerily quiet
Streets lie dreaming
And birds
Nest undisturbed
And dogs whimper to the moon
And cats look to the skies
And run away
Skittish.
Towards the Sublime
When you wear
Yesterday’s socks.
When you don’t bother
To close the bathroom door.
When you quietly stop yoga
And leave the garden to hungry birds.
When you ‘see’ your mum and dad
Every day.
When your daughter and sister call
Every day.
When you breathe ozone
Under clear blue skies.
When streets lie dreaming.
When you see colleagues and students
In homes all over the globe.
When you share sorrows,
Their worries and their joys.
When you discover who the heroes are.
When a stranger’s distant smile,
And small acts of kindness,
Become towering acts of humanity.
COVID-inequality
You isolate
In your garden,
Take sun
On your balcony,
And on country walks
Away from it all.
I isolate
In my tiny urban flat,
No garden,
Only glass,
And the window painted shut
Against thieves.
And in the park
Taking in sun
You disperse me,
Shame me, tut me,
Not staying home
For England.
You queue
At the supermarket,
Two meters apart
Even three.
The virtue
Of your civicness
Signalled for all.
One in one out,
A friendly smile.
The shelves are full
I walk past
Supermarket security,
Face masked with suspicion.
Fear not smiles.
Shelves gap-toothed,
People anxious
Carrying muscle memory
Of other supermarkets
In other times
And other places
Where only the strong were served.
You teach your children.
Your global projects
Becoming living-room small.
So many books and ideas.
We see your family performances
On Facebook
I, fearful, choiceless,
Needed care-worker,
leave my children
To their iPads and crisps,
And idleness and video games.
We perform chaos
And getting by.
Trying to forget
That we share
Exam halls.
You go to your study,
Important work.
Your wife fills the slot
Recently vacated
By the ethnic female.
She re-embodies
Domestic woman,
Just for now.
A goddess of sorts.
Your god-status
Incontrovertible.
I am,
Have never not been,
Domestic woman.
Failing,
Of course.
Falling,
Always.
Cycles of food and faeces
And water and sweat
Never-ending.
These are my media.
My art goes unnoticed.
You eat into your savings,
A little.
A few cancelled projects,
You will pick up.
I eat store cupboard basics,
Instant noodles
Until they are gone.
Seeing the end of the month
Coming too fast
Like a brick wall.
You have always been
Your own project.
Organic food
And supplements
Health from the gym,
And Pilates at noon.
Needed restoration
After stressful responsibility.
You celebrate your immunity.
My project is survival.
Fighting asthma
And fumes from cars,
And bone-weariness
And the depression
That threatens to engulf.
My stressful responsibility
Not registering on your radar.
I fear for my immunity.
You say
We are in this together,
Clapping the NHS,
Plucky Brits
We will meet again.
And I say
We were never together.
Your humous and holidays
Carried your vote,
Not the NHS.
Divided Brits
Shall we meet
For the first time?
If death is a leveller
Will you die with me?
Will you take this chance,
This unique precious chance
To be re-born,
Equal?
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