So, here I am, with Covid, (sub-variant B, Deltacron.)
after two whole years of avoiding it like.... well, the plague.
And how to capture it in words?
I’m like a wombat-catcher with a big net.
I know there are wombats in there, squarely blocking the neural
but when I find their entrances, they’ve gone.
All that is there, is this :-
An indefinable heaviness of fog in the head.
An undrunken hangover in the brain. Coffee unthinkable, drinks
Smokey whiffs of light paranoia, and outbreaks of sadness
like drifting weather fronts across the sky of the inner
A vague feeling of invasion by something ‘other’.
Tendrils of weariness, urges to lie down with hot water-bottles.
Overall absence of a sense of taste, or colour in the palette of
contrasting with a strong instinct to eat ice cream
from a huge silver bucket, with a long spoon,
just for the slip-sliding of chills down the epiglottis.
A gripping fatigue at the sight of a tax return form, an oil
or the Traffic Awareness Speeding Penalty Course on Zoom.
A frisson of arthritis through unexpected joints.
A dullness like a gloved punch in the lower spine.
A muted tingling tinnitus in the ears. A dryness in the mouth.
A lassitude in the legs. They say that covid reduces brainpower
Well, I only had 5% left anyway…
But apart from that I am fine… no worse than a cold, as they
Thank god for the vaccines, those clever little pricks!.
If you have any
thoughts on this poem, Mary
Lister would be pleased to hear them.