counting
2020
awakening
in the midst of a pandemic.
i lie still in bed
counting.
one–
robotic buzz of
coffee machine,
routine hazelnut spread
over routine toast.
two–
friends
morphed into avatars
on a computer screen,
pixelated smiles miles away now inches
away from mine
and i realise how much i’ve missed
their voices. voices
that now fill me with sweetness.
but a voice booms;
the screen blanks and they’re gone.
three–
lunch is half-spilled noodle soup
left at my doorstep by a man
six feet away.
four–
“bed-time”
is not falling asleep
but sitting in a bed
basking in afternoon sun
eyes glassy
in the painful glow of Gossip Girl.
five–
dinner
is the time the three generations
that live beneath this roof wallow
in well-deserved silence
after the day-long playlist ofwhining, chiding, wailing;
this warmth that fills my mouth might just
make up for the warmth
that has left me.
six–
i lie in bed
in the midst of a pandemic, counting,
not the seconds
or the hours
but the moments
that have begun to
repeat
themselves
day after day.