Behind Quarantine Doors by James Irving

Behind Quarantine Doors

As I stare out of boarded-up window holes,

contemplating from my quarantined berth,

I fantasise the interactions I’m missing right now.

Feelings unshared, thoughts internalised for eternity,

conversations left on the cutting room floor.

Society’s runaway train lost control atop closed borderlines,

flinging us, loose debris, into the danger zone.

Collateral damage in the hands of fate.

Roll up, roll up, hand in your Costas, give up your Maccie D’s,

readjust to a diet of cookies, pot noodles and water by the gallon.

We’re in times of contradiction in a world of conflated facts:

you take care by shutting out,

go out to be alone,

be alone to save others

yet be blinded to others through isolation more extroverted than anyone it’s tainted.

But it means nothing, does it?

Not until the mass graves get dug next door.