Lockdown Travel Diary, Poetry

#40

At home where
These carers
Can't garner
Eye contact
From partners
Echoing
Sorrows down
Backlit voids
The bed goes
Unmade, stale
Bread toasted
In staff rooms
Nationwide
Soaks bitter
Laugher from
The close air 
The carers
Say Yes mine's
The same poor
Love then wash 
Their hands to
Continue 

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