Grounded

A new poem by Anthony Anaxagorou.

By Anthony Anaxagorou

A rainbow in solidarity with coronavirus victims is displayed in a cottage window in the village of Eyam in Derbyshire, northern England on March 23, 2020. - In the 17th century, the inhabitants of Eyam got rid of the plague by placing themselves in quarantine. In recent more days, in the midst of the novel coronavirus pandemic, this village in central England has seen red in the face of an influx of visitors defying health recommendations. (Photo by Lindsey Parnaby / AFP) / TO GO WITH AFP STORY BY LINDSEY PARNABY AND SYLVAIN PEUCHMAURD (Photo by LINDSEY PARNABY/AFP via Getty Images)

What a weird time to be alive
my old neighbour kept saying
news hounding like an air raid
siren I press my face up against
the warmest chunk of wall asking
if he needs any new supplies I’m
here too I whisper turning the news
down turning my phone on shaking
the fridge saying hang in there little
buddy we’re all a bit emptier now
watching the rice creep inside black
sanitise my last plant keeping each
window shut mum forget the garden
today let April look after us – news
bulletins say it’s on the up 45 says
he’s on the up tonight we’ll sleep
inside our rubber mirrors waving
at each other through cracked
screens and paper masks like kids
who jumped the gates loneliness
needs us now more than ever
the lady upstairs I know she’s
there her babies too nobody here
has seen the ground in weeks in
months we’ll still be running

Anthony Anaxagorou is a British-born Cypriot poet. His second collection, After the Formalities (Penned in the Margins), was shortlisted for the 2019 TS Eliot Prize.