By Tony Dawson
‘Ire’ lurks in your desire
while your eyes conceal a ‘yes’
from everyone but me.
I also ‘hear’ your heartbeat
and the ‘ask’ hidden by the mask
that keeps the virus at bay.
You are my touchstone, yet out of reach.
My ‘urge’ is purged, your ‘lips’ eclipsed
until such time as COVID dies.
Since 1989, I have lived in Seville where I taught at the University for 18 years after retiring early from Liverpool Polytechnic. My poems have been published in print and online in English in the UK and the USA, and my Spanish ones in Spain.
This short COVID poem is an attempt to evoke the frustrations of not being able to make physical contact during the pandemic, and sensing the other person’s feelings.