THE SECOND SHADOW

THE SECOND SHADOW

I stopped writing for a while and watched

As the world started to believe itself better,

Adapting itself to a normal, or variant of,

Lizard like. Shedding a warped, older skin

For scales unknown to flesh itself, or to justice,

While suddenly foregoing a balance that no prize

Or pigment could ever truly justify , or make right.

I have worked, been away, and considered the acid

Changes in others, from masks to mayhem as we

Stumble and slide far from sense. People seem

More different each day; Coronic Body Snatchers;

Successfully slowed, even slyer, as if enforced

Distance had managed to somehow reshape,

Or strengthen, or even reinvent past pretence.

The illness has engendered a void in which fell

Both purpose and direction, as we take up the reins

Of wild horses, who may bolt and cast us off, as death

Looms. Or rather, mask all the more, as I certainly

Can’t breathe while I wear them - on an empty train,

Or, in shops now, where my own air betrays me

And makes of my face a shroud room. And then today,

A new clip on a Whatsapp chain chills me.

That punning name aptly serving the horror I see

On the screen. Go on to Google, doomed friends

And type any three-digit number. Add the two words;

‘new cases’ and you will see the same number of coronic

Deaths somewhere. Type again a new number and that

Will duly appear. Its obscene. What is this; algorhythms?

Control? Or some deeper magic? Luck of the draw?

Gremlin? Goblin? Or raped Pixie pixeled to prise

And produce Death’s update? Apparently, there are

Invisible hands under yours as you tap phone or keyboard.

And there would seem to be second shadows as truth itself

Pixelates. What are we to think, and who or what

Do we retrieve from the mire? On the British news,

This is mirrored as the Government Stats become game.

You can have suffered this strain weeks ago and then

Promptly recovered. Were you to then get run over, or cancer,

Yours would be a covid death all the same. We have replaced

The horror genre for months with the simple illustration

Of numbers. Played with the same solemnity of the Lotto,

The risks of outside were made grave. Yet recently,

All’s repaired, as we were Lazarused from our houses,

And told to obey as a token, by wearing our mask here

But not here. So, who’s saved? And meanwhile,

That second shadow still stalks, as if the Sun’s

Were a shield death delivers, hiding itself behind darkness,

And making even light itself seem depraved. Something’s

Afoot. So, I sit and stop mine from walking.

As the world turns, I am sliding, and idling too,

As I try

to figure out the fresh way

And at some point in the day reconfigure.

As it would appear every hour reveals a separate

PathTime can fly. That second shadow’s here still

It sits under this writing. I hear it in my voice

And about me and I catch its shade and shape

In my eye. But is it design, or happenstance,

Or direction? Look how my hands try to capture

The ghost in the glare, the soul’s rise. Carry on,

As you will, but the peripheral is the problem.

And perhaps also the answer, for there,

In the flicker, is the fiction and film

Truth describes.

David Erdos July 29th 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.