felt like I could ride any horse
and had destiny like a hound at my side.
Then I had a fall, and another, and another…
so much churning of hooves the whining of a dog…
and now I am alone in my profound uselessness
walking the labyrinth of my home town
in the snow trying to count every fleck on my eyelid
as a blessing because so many are dying
and I am alive in this pure rawness of being
in this body in which I have always been ill at home.
I wanted to live by the myths until this gormes became reality.
If only I’d studied science, medicine, rather than poetry
I might have been able to decipher the dragon’s
RNA – the pathogen’s genetic code.
But now I’m just one of the many told to stay at home.

You’ve caught something I’m also feeling, there. I’m trying to dream in a more deliberately preposterous and optimistic way, but it’s hard right now.