• Vol. 07
  • Chapter 11
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Self-Portrait as CV-19 Survivor

My Covid Blue eyes and gloves. My spuds.
I hold the carrot against Peter Rabbit.
I shall make soup and cake, I shall roast and bake,
and the rainbow sun shall light my fire.
(Yes, the intubation – I didn't feel a thing.
Under. Earth-under, I knew – Our Lady
of the Blue Hands tipped me the wink.)
I arise from a jar of my own making.
Jack, in the green – no wonder he's jealous
of my elegant survival. I like
this sweater, my favourite blue. When
I leave the ward, I think of my allotment.
One day, when I finally do jack it in,
Composting, I shall go back to my roots.