Breakout. A poem by Aidan Clarke

Quarantine decides
to broaden my horizons.

Reflections and shadows
on window panes
along the street
are domes, minarets, hills, rockets.

A trick of perspective
makes the fringe of blossom
clinging to the red-brick wall
resemble animals congregating
on a desert plain.

Mountains form in the sky,
break up, disappear.

Clouds enact centuries of mythology
on a parked car’s windscreen.

The dustbin-lid pond in the next garden
has me standing on the shores of Lake Baikahl.

The ping-pong table of a lawn
impersonates the Pampas.
Hold on, that daisy wasn’t there yesterday.

I feel a sudden panic for the coming days,
like a mouse’s terror on sensing
a cat crouched like a lion
between the giant Redwood trees
of the 5 tulips.

A newly-planted sapling
sticks its chest out
against a flurry of freezing winds
and promises to meet me here
in ten years’ time

My body’s confined.
My eyes skim the tree-tops.
My heart goes out to the whole world.

Aidan Clarke



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