How Far Apart Should We Be?
And when it’s over, how close?
Close enough to smell the ten-day homeless
or hear the silence of the overworked
or feel the blankness of the always underpaid.
Close enough to join the backs of queues.
Close enough to see the ground-in grot.
Close enough to sit in the room of the wrong accents.
Close enough to the inexplicably-in-charge
to serve them an array of expensive beverages.
Close enough to the doors to hear, even days later.
Not far enough to pretend that everything is fine, again.
Seth Crook lives on Mull. His poems have appeared in such places as The Rialto, Magma, Envoi, Poetry Scotland, Firth, The Interpreter’s House. And in recent anthologies such as Port (Dunlin), Green Fields (Maytree), Declarations (Scotland Street). His concrete poems have recently appeared in Streetcake, The Projectionist’s Playground and a forthcoming anthology celebrating Edwin Morgan.
new boots and pantisocracies 