Four Portals Out Of The World’s Longest Lockdown

I.

This is confession.
This is the fall, anther at the bower
the tongue tip lent
to wrist, to pulse
the warp and weft limbs
invent
little deaths at waking-hour.

II.

This is gravity.
This is descent: my rock to this earth,
my debt of weight
to its core.
the irrevocable pull this satellite creates
drawing water to its shore.

III.

This is delight.
This: peeling off linen strips, liniment
staining stitches, the imminent
sting, bliss tripping across
skin, fire-footed
ant parade, this
confetti of pain.

IV.

This is the canvas.
This is the sketch: the soundless sleeping
void pierced
with livid blooms
worlds wrapped in dreaming
sightless in their wombs.

By inklingfair

Biography:

inklingfair’s poetry has been published by indie trans-genre zine Paper Monster Press. She is about to give birth in the Philippines, where the coronavirus lockdown has stretched for over four months. She creates stories, verses, and storyverses of ideas at inklingfair.com.