Pandemic Archive

Siobhan Potter . . .

…Poetry lacks the capacity to be cavalier and pass by
It’s a drive by, connected to landscape
in service to its collision potential
The drive by shooting of the pandemic cyclist
His spit weaponised, collides with bludgeon
a word I never utter
But I saw this and I thought of you
and not in a postcard kind of way
Distance tries to happen, passing by
What if someday I stopped
In Frost’n it, would we collide less
Would it make any difference
Or matter
does any of it
is any of it matter
You stopping
To be seduced by
green tea and bare feet in the
garden, to return
Via haiku. And now
still passing
feeling the passing
I pass…

‘not the time to be silent’