#Covid19 Dream. A poem by Kathryn Daily

I dream of a celluloid form spinning on a thread
a prism in the shape of a dusty star.
Dream of you as Jimmy Bean and me
as my Pollyanna self, the girl with the curls.

I dream we are dancing like Garbo and Gilbert
the Flesh and the Devil in a Viennese swirl
or in Paris, beads flashing, pearls swinging
and a black headache band holding my kiss curls in place.

I dream we are the lovers who always find each other
after long separations over endless distances.
The young lovers with fate and time on their side
no need of the internet, mobile phones or GPS.

No worries about that tiny spot of phone cover
on a single windowsill in the living room
of your quarantine solitary hermitage.
I dream of ruby slippers, a magic girdle or deep wardrobe

a blue phone box with a cosmic screwdriver,
a flying carpet, three wishes, a wand or an enchanted key
or just plain old “Scotty, beam me up.”
Any means of teleportation will do

whether by science or magic, I wouldn’t be picky.
I dream of the “normal” there is no getting back to.

There’s no place like home.
There’s no place like home.
There’s no place like no place
like no place like home.

…………….

Kathryn Daily is a textile artist, creative arts facilitator and poet living in County Donegal. Her poetry collection, The Comfort of a Wicked Past, was published by Summer Palace Press in 2008.