by Daniel   Apr 3, 2020

Some of us are
tucked into the epicentre

while each day I tiptoe
safely through shattered

that I’ve imagined litters
my floor.

Hands sanitised to the bone,
it’s in the air, it’s in my home
hands sanitised to the bone,
can’t open the window
can’t answer the phone.

Something here died long ago,
someone somewhere is
mourning me whilst dusk
bleeds through my walls.

All around us crumbles
and falls.

It’s just me on the see-saw,

as ghosts peer round
the corners.

We are all in


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Latest Comments

  • 9 months ago

    by Star

    After reading this for few times, the title hits hard. Yes just that word descending, I dont know if you meant it to have a big meaning, but for me it's really dark. I cant describe what's in my brain.

    Also I LOVE the repetition of this part "hands sanitised to the bone", it's like it left me bruised and my bones are aching.

  • 9 months ago

    by Rania Moallem

    Man this gave me the chills. What a thought! Very vivid and touching

  • 9 months ago

    by nourayasmine

    Woah. Death is scary. To expect it and keep thinking about it (tiptoe on broken glass that isn't there) is even more scary. Dusk bleeding through your walls is a very creative image. I have a couple of moments to read and comment on poems. I will leave a better comment later. But wow, I am so in love with this.

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