Dutifully muted we wait in our bubbles, looking
at ourselves looking at ourselves smiling, looking
for clues in book shelves, potted plants, interiors.
Sid’s iPad is a shadow. Patrick props a stepladder.
Magi’s tablet belongs to a Ragdoll with blue eyes.
The third row shows bearded minimalists in grey.
The cool ones are sipping tea from chunky mugs.
The patient ones are still holding hands raised
while their rictus grins slip off screen to scream.
Three minutes to write a poem about the sea.
Try to recall how the sea looks, sounds, smells.
Time rubs out. One by one our bubbles turn black.
The Purple Hermit 
I’m glad people are not looking at my house on Zoom. I’d have to do even more cleaning !!
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🤣🤣🤣
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I love the way you’ve drawn out the elements of the real versus the screen, Nikita, and with the different personalities. Sounds like a very quick write and (possibly) read. It resonates with me because of the “live” group I used to go to. You might recall that once I am under pressure I can’t write. We had word prompts, and by ignoring them, I managed to get by.
As you’ve implied, isolation adds another dimension, also nicely captured in the image.
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Thanks for your feedback Steve. Yes, you’re correct- this was a quick write in a fit of frustration after enduring a torturous Zoom workshop. Covid is pushing us more into reliance on technology and a disconnect with reality and between people. Having said that I recently read my poems at an online literary festival via Zoom. It was a successful event that generated a sense of community so it proves it can be done better.
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Congrats on the online lit festival, Nikita
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Thank you 😊
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