Peter Branson

Rode Heath, East Cheshire, 

poem completed 17^th April 2020

Peter Branson is a poet, songwriter and traditional-style singer whose poetry has been published by journals in  Britain,  the USA, Canada,  Ireland, Australasia and South Africa,  including in Acumen, Agenda,  Ambit,  Envoi,  London Magazine,  The North, Prole, Warwick Review,  Iota, The Frogmore  Papers, Interpreter’s  House, SOUTH,  Crannog, THE  SHOP, The Columbia Review,  The Huston Poetry Review and  Other  Poetry. His latest books, ‘Red Hill, Selected Poems, 2000-2012’, May 2013 and ‘Hawk Rising’, 2016. He was shortlisted for the 2019 Poetry Business Pamphlet and Collection competition.

Coping with Covid 19

‘That every house visited be marked with a red cross in the middle of the door, “Lord have mercy upon us” to be set close over the same cross until lawful opening of the said house.’ (London, 1^st July, 1665) - from ‘A journal of the plague year’ – Daniel Defoe, pub 1722

Between 22^nd Aug & 26^th Sept, 38,195 Londoners died of plague, a far greater percentage of the population than that number would equate to today.

Back there, once it has taken hold, they know,

not rocket science, die cast, there is no hope,

so prudent people recognise the need

for quarantine until the pestilence

has passed. The streets are wild with whispers, cures,

quack remedies dispensed by mountebanks.

Some, heedless of fair warning, desperate folk,

plunder the houses of the living dead.

Ours is the age where wizards charm within

the twinkling of an eye, both sight and sound

broadcast. We’re puppet masters of their world

made flesh, so crave each other in the round.

We yearn for healing arms and fond embrace,

love everything, the seal of tenderness.