From the Confinement

By Evgeny Shtorn

I wake up thinking that I've got symptoms
that I have to call to the doctor
I try to find words in the dictionary
to describe everything
where I was last days
who I met
what I was doing
where I could get it
I feel endless anxiety
endless fear
I feel guilty
for being sick
I am not sick
it is just my inflamed imagination
it is outside and inside myself
the virus is so invisible
that you can find it everywhere
it is large
it contains multitudes
there is nothing to survive anymore
nothing to escape
I wake up embracing it
like a small pillow

while being embraced by it
like by a worm in a tomb
Am I awake?

Credits

Part of the Coole Park Poetry Series, produced with Druid and shot at Coole Park as part of DruidGregory.

Reproduced with permission of the poet.