Quarantine Questions
Lines create patterns
on the floor of your house
Has your hair been falling
More than the usual?
Maybe it’s just an accumulation
Of what was once a distribution
Across your many homes of the day ?
Your eyebrows have strayed
Beyond their untamed hedges
Will your sentiment be evident
When the lines above your eyes
Sway differently than before?
The straight lines from your skull
haven’t been curved
The arcs not redrawn with a scale
Your lips don’t leave evidence
Beyond your genetic map
No coloured imprints
With tiny parallel lines
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You think you’re losing your mind
Analyzing your Rorschach test nail paint
While your shoes go hungry
They can’t bite
The skin above your heel
So your unused band-aids
Stay at the same angle to each other
Jhumka earrings hang, rusting,
Hollow lampshades,
Light ears, away
Your earlobes are whole again
In returning to our truth
As we were in our first home,
the womb,
We alter the geometry of our bodies
And question Euclid’s axioms.
Departing from our houses,
Morphing into the other life, of our double.
“All the world’s a stage”, wrote Shakespeare,
For he knew,
We lived as actors
Putting on a show.
