Love poems from lockdown: A work of fiction

Hindsight is 2020, so they say. So now seems like a perfect time to revisit these forlorn verses from the pandemic’s darkest hour (originally published in the late autumn of that annus horribilis). They represent a sharp detour from my typically lyrical rhymes. But if 2020 was a good time for anything, it was surely a good time for sharp detours.

The coronavirus pandemic provided so many unlikely opportunities for inner reflection and self-improvement. It also spawned a corresponding epidemic of depression and anxiety. One thing is for sure, we’ll never be the same after this. Some of us have lost loved ones, and some of us have lost our jobs. I suspect I’m not the only one to have lost my mind.

Even if you haven’t been directly affected by the virus itself, you have surely suffered from the mind-altering impact of domestic confinement and public shutdowns. They can close bars, concert halls and barbershops. They can stop us from shopping and dining. But they’ll never stop us from feeling. And that’s where this series of love poems from lockdown comes in.

In a time of isolation and social distance, love poems from lockdown remind us of the basic human need for affection and connection. Never have we craved intimacy so intensely, so desperately. And yet, for so many, that need goes unmet.

Dysfunctional love poems from lockdown

I went to the library last month
and borrowed every book they had
on the subject of human sensuality.
I read them one by one
from front to back.
And still you were not impressed.
You said I lacked spontaneity.
So I looked to the appendix
where they suggested I
write you a love poem.

I saw you from across the street
and smiled at you from under my mask.
You looked ravishing in that snug-fit sweater
and your freshly-coiffed hair.
Like the goddess of a small town.
You rotated your neck and
winked at me feverishly.
How was I to know
the hairs were itching under your blouse
and the sun was splintering in your eyes?

Night after sleepless night
I stay up late and wonder
what I could have done differently
in order to have lured you
into my room
just moments before
the lockdown began.

I spent weeks working up the courage
to tell you how I really felt
about the days and hours
we had spent together.
Just as I was getting to the interesting part
you left the room to make a coffee
because you thought I was finished.
It turns out you were right.

Every Wednesday afternoon
at two fifty-two
I peer out my window
waiting to catch a glimpse of you
as you glide past
on your way to your three thirty.
Your newest therapist
instills you with such confidence.
Clearly you are on the cusp
of a clinical breakthrough.
But then you rescheduled.
The sessions now take place
over Zoom and so
I no longer see you.

The doctor measured my vitals
and regarded me with
suspicion and concern.
My eyes were red,
my lips were dry
and my whiskers were sore.
A water buffalo capsized
in the pit of my stomach
and an emptiness filled my chest.
Then he drew perfunctory notes
on his immaculate clipboard.
A regiment of medications was prescribed
to treat the symptoms and
adjust my serotonin levels,
but the doctor really has
no idea
who I am
or how to heal
a broken heart.

Further Reading

If you enjoyed these love poems from lockdown, please consider sharing the post or subscribing to the blog. You might also want to check out some of these popular articles:

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