By Laura Owens
We arrive together
But this ticket admits only one.
Wish me luck.
Alone I embark
Through aisles arranged in a maze,
Through aisles designed to faze,
Regular lines at my feet denote a hazard yet to transpire.
Everywhere,
Faces obscured-
Obscure faces.
My eyes meet no others.
Swerve
And rush
And then swerve again
And then stop…
And repeat,
Like a broken rhythm, endless and unsatisfying.
Rows, empty of milk,
But brimming with guilt
And the air is so solemn,
I just want to go and
Where are you?
I wish I wasn’t alone.
“Sorry for the wait.”
Or is she sorry for the weight,
The burden thrust upon us all?
At least now it’s over.
I spot your face,
Unobscure and unobscured,
Across the lot.
Lucky you!
It’s your turn next week.
Author:
Originally from the North of England, Laura Owens (she/her) is a 3D animator now working in the South. A keen baker and crafter, she is currently building a collection of poems inspired by a recent trip to Iceland. Follow her on Instagram @laurabethowens and Twitter @laurabethowens.
This poem is a part of the DISTANCED project.
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