by David K Asamoah

When my love swears that she did not just cough
I do believe her though I know she lies
That she might stay home a quarantined sloth
And spare me of the virus that resides.
Though vain, I do not care if I was wrong 
To stockpile all the tissues, soaps and rest
Simply in case I’m forced off work for long
I’ll live off five thousand frozen chicken breasts
But wherefore someone with unwashed hands must
Touch my own hands and I then catch a cold?
O Covid pass me by I do not trust
My calm to last as breaking news is told
And so I lie beneath the covers free
Of any symptoms of rationality.

The Poor Print

The Oriel College Student Newspaper. Run by students, with contributions from the JCR, MCR, SCR, and Staff. Current Executive Editors: Monim Wains and Siddiq Islam

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s