Infectious Love

It’s strange,

not trusting 

your own hands

fleshy doorways

to sickness

or health...

illness lurking

beneath nails

or Cupid’s rings,

cleanliness (again)

godliness...

Purified skin (to-skin) 

still a rebellious 

act, we pause, 

unnaturally, 

fingers outstretched 

like newborns 

craving comfort 

remembering the 

sweet, milk-stained 

sacrament,

too vulnerable

not to be touched.
— *reflections on the Coronavirus pandemic 
Photo credit: Artist Elly SmallwoodFollow her on Instagram @ellysmallwood