London is a Bear Waiting for Spring

By Michelle Ricciardi

The pubs are shut. The music stopped. London is a bear waiting for spring.
I use my mask to wipe my tears on a train to somewhere near. Should’ve
gone by bike but the price was too high, I must
find a deal. I get stared at, at least I can hide but
my eyes are naked this time. I send you a treat,
you disappear. It’s next day already. Prime delivery, you should
have it by noon. Did I tell you about my friend who sent a pack of 90 toilet rolls to her neighbour crush in Belsize Park. She’s watched in films it gets a laugh. I miss you. They lost touch, I’m losing
my mind. So low, solo for so long. I cling
to the city, I shop at Tesco, got to meal prep it’s a new week, can they see me crack? I clap
every Thursday at eight o’clock on the dot. Do you need a bag no thanks and I smile extra wide to emphasize the wrinkles in my eyes. Have a good one I hope
they can see that I’m smiling. Captain has spoken on the tele today. It gets me every time.
Childlike rainbow paintings on the windows, we search for gold in silver linings of tiny daily gratitude. I think of you more than before. I walk the streets, I must keep going. A hundred more laps. One minute of silence for the ones that got quiet. For good.

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Written Word ‘Soul’ poems