Return of the Wall

Black and white stripes
paint equine shapes across my laptop screen,
striking me with an urgency
to escape across the seas
until I reach the African Plains
to find the zebras in the wild,
but how can I when my mind
has me trapped
within this concrete space?

There is no bread.
The only cereal is oats.
Vegetables and protein
are also in short supply.
Yesterday’s rain washed the sky
to a mild baby blue, sharpening the lines
of the shedding trees.
Autumn leaves carpet the grass,
aping the loud floor
of a 1970s living room in suburbia.
The sun looks welcoming,
yet when I consider going outside,
I know my way is barred.

I bought the oats months ago
thinking to make flapjacks.
I don’t like porridge,
but tomorrow,
it might have to do.

Meanwhile I write,
by from the wall
that builds between me and outside.

©Jane Paterson Basil


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