Immune
Body,
I can feel it failing,
I can feel my lymph nodes swell.
There is light,
But I don't want the flashing lights of an ambulance,
Words are powerful,
As the washing machine stops, the coffee is drunk, the clean clothes are hung.
When the Cops turn up, I want to say to them can you reach that light bulb, can you reach that ladder,
My landlord has cancer too,
Through his bones, through his back,
I cough because there's a leak in the roof, they think it's corona virus, but it's not,
I want another test,
But I put it off,
Afraid of results,
At least the washing I hang
Shifa Maqba
Tue 23rd Jun 2020 05:30
The kind of poetry that keeps you awake at night. Dark, powerful and melancholic! It's difficult to make a disease/an ailment the muse of of a poetry, but you've handled it with both fragility and brutal honesty, it's commendable!