Isolation

This cell is

a forest

contained by

a prison

shadows are
incubated

in a spray of

roots,

a mesh

of sleek bars,

cloaking half
the world

in darkness

here

the infected

converse with

their sepsis

but the mind

cannot be
quarantined

draw your nails

across the
partition

and brick dust

falls as
leaves;

a memory

of winter

Categorised in: Article

This post was written by Simon Cockle