Footfall
echoes down our unlit alley,
like a signal followed.
Uploading from your pocket,
an unheard blip,
blip, bleeping of barcode.
Contact:
an unknown voice recites
their script. Quarantine.
You will be
notified
if your
status changes.
A swab may be
required.
Unseen,
the scrunching of gravel.
Your partial field of view:
a white van retreats
from the corner of one eye,
its exhaust spluttering.
Alert,
controlled, but double-blind
to false result - not yours -
take the test next door.
Tap on your neighbour’s window,
bookmark their location.
v. 2020
