DARKNESS AS DARE

DARKNESS AS DARE

Where are we with this? I write as the world slides

And settles. The tap and trace system’s transparency

Is revealed while attempting to parent us all

From the brink. As those at the end of the phone

Disconnect, unemployed despite purpose,

While the cunning Chameleon Covid slips from swamp

To day circus, Crocodiling safe moments to threaten

Each breath, dream and drink. Where are we?

Still here. Amateurishly trying to define the new normal.

And yet, even the phrase sounds synthetic, as it reduces

What we had before to cast clothes. Bell bottom

Flares that once displayed our abandon, crop-tops,

Or, shirts with a band on; those uniforms of belonging

That made us as much the product as anything else

That we owned. But now, the product has changed.

And the product is fate, to be packaged. But which

Box, or wrapping can effectively contain each strange

Day? Not to mention the strained, who are doing

All they can to live through this, crawling from under

The rocks they have fashioned from their semi-detached

Terraced cage. The disease daemons up, for just as sleep

Sisters death, so does cure court contagion. As they

Barrel Brexit, any European curative can’t be ours.

So, what did you vote for, you fools, who chose the Devil

To spite the dishwater? Will the NHS we’ve stopped

Clapping, drained as it is sign Trump’s clause?

They’ll soon be selling us off to fund the emergency

Rations they’ve granted. In fact, no sooner given

Then the need to repay was called in. Where are we?

You know. Because we’re both the snow and Toboggin.

And yet there will be a heavy heat here by Wednesday,

The sun as bright blood for clouds’ bruise. Which

Gathers now like space-craft as I write this poem

On Sunday; grey on grey; air’s arachnid squatting

On sky like bad news. The world has also become

Its own glove. It has been turned inside out. Watch

The lining. In showing the seams split between us

And all of the security we would lose. This is not

The end, capital E. It is the start of something else

Altogether. Reality warped. You all noticed. But know,

That you can iron a crease, not a void. You cannot seal

What is torn. We can simply stitch together. But the line

That’s left lingers. The line that’s left writes our choice.

We have been bartered before but possibly not

At this level. The wages withheld, once they’re given

May well be death’s sermon and once again those

Of sin. So, where will we be? And when will we get

There? Who do we follow? And how will we give

Voice to the reasons why we are here. They’re still blaming

Bats and fish markets. But there are still further

Questions: Which lab and rat were deployed?

I sit and watch these fast-moving clouds seize sad

Shape, as an animal sky sets the template.

I await said rain; Heaven’s language. For as we

Scour words, truth’s odd noise. Where are we now?

Some God knows and is out there now, an explorer,

Tracing the cosmos with the compass we need,

Far from view. And so, we search stars that have

Started to lose their first promise. Hoping that

Each new prayer makes them glisten and that

The listening light signals through. Where are we?

In the dark. Which the blind nobly master. So, like

The blind we must follow, for there in such

Darkness sits the shapes we’ll be tracing.

There in the darkness, life secret sign.

Hope’s lost clue.

David Erdos, June 21^st 2020

For more poems from David Erdos visit The Corona Diaries collection 

David Erdos is an actor, writer, director with over 300 professional credits. He is a published poet, playwright, essayist and illustrator. He has lectured on all disciplines in theatre and film for leading performing arts colleges, schools and universities around the world. His books include EASY VERSES FOR DIFFICULT TIMES, THE SCAR ON THE CLOUD, OIL ON SILVER, NEWS FROM MARS, CHANGING PLACES WITH LIGHT (penniless press) and BYZANTIUM with the photographer Max Reeves. He is a contributing editor for The International Times and maker of documentaries all over the world. David’s work has been acclaimed by many leading figures including Harold Pinter, Heathcote Williams, Alan Moore, Andrew Kotting, Chris Petit and Iain Sinclair in whose recent book THE LAST LONDON, David features. He can be reached at David.erdos@sky.com.

David Erdos

©    David Erdos has asserted his moral rights as author of his work and has full copyright.