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Emma Elisabeth Wood
Poems
Dec 2018
Quarantine
My face is the front gate
of a rotting town
people sweeping
through streets
like a Plague
that kills with
disproportionates
my eyes the ticket-men
who check scraps of
yellowed paper for
numbers, ripping
of corners for their
pocket
my ears hum
with the sound of
Thalidomide bees,
collecting nectar
from dying flowers
I can smell scattered
chemicals and poverty,
children without shoes
and old ladies who
knit with rheumatic
fingers
I keep my mouth shut
to stop the spread of this
war
I let my head fall forward
sometimes, or shake
but
I will not open my lips
for anyone
Written by
Emma Elisabeth Wood
F/UK
(F/UK)
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