Poetry 22 April 2020 Grounded A new poem by Anthony Anaxagorou. Getty Sign UpGet the New Statesman\'s Morning Call email. Sign-up 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. › Jim McMahon: The politics of place and belonging This article appears in the 22 April 2020 issue of the New Statesman, The coronavirus timebomb