The lockdown. A poem by Neil O’Sullivan

I have been here alone with you
My mouth is full of pebbles
My heart curls beneath my bowel
A kitten with a dream of tiger teeth

My skin has become amorphous
With vaguely the shape of me
Occasionally displaying your imprint
As my own image flickers

I spit out some pebbles
To speak three words
You haven’t stopped ignoring me

My lungs exhale more
Than they can ever recover
I will wait patiently

My bones are rusty and storm decayed
You sit on the floor
Plucking the legs off imaginary spiders
Will you ever stop shouting at me

My teeth grind
Only above the gum line
I cook you dinner
Light your fire
Tuck you in at night

Before crawling to my place
Under the bed
My brain is dull with the craving
For static electricity

We circle each other
Warily, like combatants
With forks in our teeth
And love in our eyes

It’s raining outside
The streets are like deserts
The ceiling weighs heavily
We slowly sip the offered tea.

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