Forecast. A poem by Pat Edwards

I woke to the World Service, nations united in this fight,
pictured men and women in masks, broadcasting from
their kitchen tables like warriors in the digital half light.
The Shipping Forecast warned good becoming poor or
very poor later; there might be trouble ahead, variable
predictions of storms, uncharted territory still to come.

Today the Muslim cleric prayed blessings for Ramadan
under lockdown; Mecca closed, the fast from sunrise
to sundown, and his visions of lonely, empty mosques.
Farming Today, food rotting in fields if we can’t source
pickers who can stay far enough apart to harvest safely.
Today is St. George’s Day, Shakespeare’s birth and death.

Who will die today: carer, cared for, all upon this stage.
With tempest forecast, we must go viral with our rage.


Pat Edwards is a writer, reviewer and workshop leader. Her work has appeared in Magma, Prole, IS&T, Atrium and others. Pat hosts Verbatim open mic nights and curates Welshpool Poetry Festival. Her debut pamphlet, Only Blood, was published last year by Yaffle Press. Her next, Kissing in the Dark, is due out this year with Indigo Dreams.


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