Hip hip hooray, hurrah, yippee!
They’ve got good news for us at last!
We have gone down from 4 to 3
The time of lockdown is now past!

And I don’t care what people say:
About the risk still being present
Woo and yay! Calloo, callay!
Let’s get back to life being pleasant!

The danger level’s going down!
This is the ideal situation!
Why be defeatist, fret and frown,
Because it’s still in circulation?

Cheer up! It’s like you’re just not trying!
There’s slightly fewer of us dying!

“The Covid vaccine only lasts one year?
They’ve done it like that so we have to pay!
Although they could just make it go away,
Big Pharma don’t want this to disappear!

The virus is a scam! The whole thing’s sheer
Conspiracy, no matter what they say,
These “scientists” and “experts” are OK
With lying! Things are not as they appear!”

For years, this narrative where scientists
And experts are all liars has gained traction.
And many now would rather become ill

Than trust them. They would rather take that risk.
Than give the “boffins” any satisfaction.
Covid won’t wipe us out. Ignorance will.

We live on a main road. It’s always loud.
There’s always traffic roaring by outside.
Kids playing, and at night there’s always crowds
Of people laughing, drunk. And I’d have lied

If I had said, before all this, that we
Did not become annoyed. Then it got quiet
When lockdown started. And it seemed to me
That it was for the best. I’d not deny it

Was eerie. When we couldn’t hear the shrieks
Of laughing kids, drunk blokes outside the door
Singing, or squabbling. None of that, for for weeks.
But now, we’ve started hearing them once more.

And how I wish we could go back to nothing
Instead of people shouting, drinking,

coughing.

I’m googling “New Covid deaths UK”
To try to see if there’s a second spike
Sometimes it’s high, and sometimes, like today,
It seems quite low. And yet I do not like

The figures, either way. When they are high
I’m filled with grief. When low, I’m filled with dread.
I cannot help but think that it’s a lie
And we’ll relax, and more will end up dead.

I really wish that I could celebrate
The falling numbers. Fewer people getting
Ill is better, right? But it’s my fate
Regardless of the figures, to keep fretting

Because I simply can’t shake the suspicion
That good news = bad news + omission.

The queue for Primark stretches down the street
The first day they’ve been open since the start
Of lockdown. People shifting on their feet
But waiting patiently, six feet apart

Although we can go shopping, we can’t try
Anything on. The risks are still too great.
And personally I cannot see why
Anyone wants to shop, when we could wait.

I don’t have growing kids. My clothes still fit.
I don’t go out, so I don’t need to dress
“Appropriately” (or at all), so it
Is not my place to judge, and even less

To wring my hands, my righteous lips a-quiver,
(Then order clothes, that someone must deliver.)

People are saying “not until it’s safe”
As in, we shouldn’t end the lockdown till (although at this stage, these restrictions chafe)
There’s much less chance of people getting ill.

And that makes sense. It is important to
Put humans before profit. But how can
We wait for safety? Danger’s nothing new
For some of us. So tell me, what’s the plan?

We wait until queer people aren’t being beaten
Up? Lockdown until the cops stop killing
Black people? We’re not even defeating
This fucking virus. Actually I’m willing

To stay locked down indefinitely. When
It’s safe, we’ll go to work. But not till then.

Statues are falling and people are furious.
How can destruction like this be forgiven ?
Statues are falling and I find it curious:
Blocks of carved stone more protected than living

Humanity? Why is this rage thus directed?
An image of Churchill, a likeness of Rhodes
Being threatened sparks rage. That is to be expected:
As Britons we do tend to venerate those

Who have hurt people. People of colour especially.
We erect statues to people who’d done
Really terrible things. Perhaps now it’s expected. We
Need to acknowledge: a new world’s begun.

But while we are still mourning a statue’s demise
We’ve a long way to go before we realise.

If we had locked down two weeks earlier,
Your gran would be alive. If we had locked
Down two weeks earlier, you would be sure
Your job was safe. And you would not be shocked

By Britain’s death rates. If we had locked down
Two weeks before we did, deaths would have dropped
Like many other countries. We’d have found
A way to stop the spread. If we had locked

Down two weeks earlier, they’d be alive.
So many, if we’d followed the advice,
Would never have got ill. They’d have survived.
But, since we didn’t, they have paid the price.

Just think about the way things might have been
Without the call to take it on the chin.

They’re telling us we can have “bubbles”, now.
Bubbles are fun, but fragile. First they’re there
Beautiful rainbows, floating in the air.
And then they’re gone. And you’re wondering why

Something that was so lovely had to die
In soapy droplets. It seems so unfair.
But these bubbles are different. You can share
Your space, yourself. Kiss loneliness goodbye,

Create a small enclosure just for two
And touch somebody else’s skin, at last.
(Though, when you touch a bubble,  it might burst,)

Extended loneliness is bad for you.
Is this long overdue? Is it too fast?
Covid-19 or loneliness: what’s worse?

(After Lisette Auton)

Roll up, roll up! The Boris Johnson funfair!
The lockdown’s easing, you can come outside!
So many games to play, you will be stunned there:
I’m going to take you on a crazy ride!

Behold, dear people, for your delectation
This marvel: it’s the magic telephone!
You’ll feel just like you’ve had a conversation
With Mr Starmer, though you’re all alone!

Now ride the rollercoaster of infection!
Hold tight! The R is rising! Then it falls…
Up, down, up down, each day a new direction,
And some of you will not get off at all!

You’ll gasp when you hear Boris Johnson’s goal
To beat this virus: “Playing Whack-A-Mole.”