“I’m fine thank you”




Throughout lockdown I tried to project an outwardly upbeat and optimistic persona. If anyone asked how I was the stock answer was always "Fine thank you." This poem considers what I might have said if I revealed how I was really feeling.

I’m muddled as a drawer full of mismatched socks

I worry about loss

Always attending imaginary funerals

I worry about extinction

Sullenly traipsing through misanthropic tropes

I worry about social media

Incensed by puerile, pernicious propaganda

I worry about fascism

Recklessness and spontaneity are now illegal

I worry about liberty

Yet I am determined to remain visible

I worry about surveillance

Yes my head is bursting with desperate scenarios

I worry about the children

When I make myself toast and Marmite

I worry about Marmite shortages

Armed with just my wits and unyielding

I worry I am irrational

I resist the Valium; rejig the sock drawer

I worry about disorder

I seize each day and try not to end it

I’m worried about tomorrow

Defeated and drenched in despair

I’m so worried about all this worrying

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