These blame gamey days 

of lockdowns and attempted pick us ups. 

We have become the captains 

of our own quarrels 

the very great and the very terrible 

of us all, displayed for all to see. 

 

Touch from a distance 

 

The photographed beaches of bodies, these last few years 

of swept up refugees 

are now the front page of swathes of folk sunning themselves. 

The distrust of binary politics and the flimsy news reports, 

how we try to shake ourselves from this funk 

by the boredom of this humdrum rapture. 

The newscasts of the deaths of thousands filtering 

across the rolled out countryside. This greenish land  

 

Touch from a distance  

 

The dictates, the loose tooth thinking 

by governments and their advisors 

who jangle the keys in front of the cell doors. 

They keep us stuffed up with sport on Television, 

keep the question from our lips, we are not all equal when 

the sacrifices of the many are made for the privilege of the few. 

 

Touch from a distance