COVID-inequality

You isolate

In your garden,

Take sun

On your balcony,

And on country walks

Away from it all.

I isolate

In my tiny urban flat,

No garden,

Only glass,

And the window painted shut

Against thieves.

And in the park

Taking in sun

You disperse me,

Shame me, tut me,

Not staying home

For England.

You queue

At the supermarket,

Two meters apart

Even three.

The virtue

Of your civicness

Signalled for all.

One in one out,

A friendly smile.

The shelves are full

I walk past

Supermarket security,

Face masked with suspicion.

Fear not smiles.

Shelves gap-toothed,

People anxious

Carrying muscle memory

Of other supermarkets

In other times

And other places

Where only the strong were served.

You teach your children.

Your global projects

Becoming living-room small.

So many books and ideas.

We see your family performances

On Facebook

I, fearful, choiceless,

Needed care-worker,

leave my children

To their iPads and crisps,

And idleness and video games.

We perform chaos

And getting by.

Trying to forget

That we share

Exam halls.

You go to your study,

Important work.

Your wife fills the slot

Recently vacated

By the 'help'.

She re-embodies

Domestic woman,

Just for now.

A goddess of sorts.

Your god-status

Incontrovertible.

I am,

Have never not been,

Domestic woman.

Failing,

Of course.

Falling,

Always.

Cycles of food and faeces

And water and sweat

Never-ending.

These are my media.

My art goes unnoticed.

You eat into your savings,

A little.

A few cancelled projects,

You will pick up.

I eat store cupboard basics,

Instant noodles

Until they are gone.

Seeing the end of the month

Coming too fast

Like a brick wall.

You have always been

Your own project.

Organic food

And supplements

Health from the gym,

And Pilates at noon.

Needed restoration

After stressful responsibility.

You celebrate your immunity.

My project is survival.

Fighting asthma

And fumes from cars,

And bone-weariness

And the depression

That threatens to engulf.

My stressful responsibility

Not registering on your radar.

I fear for my immunity.

You say

We are in this together,

Clapping the NHS,

Plucky Brits

We will meet again.

And I say

We were never together.

Your humous and holidays

Carried your vote,

Not the NHS.

Divided Brits

Shall we meet

For the first time?

If death is a leveller

Will you die with me?

Will you take this chance,

This unique precious chance

To be re-born,

Equal?

Hilary Cremin

Photo by Sharon McCutcheon https://unsplash.com/@sharonmccutcheon