Read Poetry: TOUCH, by Véronique Béquin

You’re not looking at me
your eyes – bright – scan my brow
a miner’s lamp
in my underground
Me, I never look
into anyone’s eyes
your logo-less hoodie your jeans
no scrubs for you today
you’re for blending in
your clothes are clean
Persil fresh
telling me nothing and everything
Me, I smell of daily corrosion
your stethoscope dangles loose
your sterile gloves
purple for power
or sorrow or for the time
when I had colours to claim

My first time here
the community health van
for the unhoused the junkies
the drifters who got lost
the teenage girls the teenage boys
bought for dimes
you check my breath
I’m still breathing
your deodorant a jasmine in bloom
Me, with rotting pits for underarms
you check the tracks silently
the pain doesn’t ooze out
you say masks are optional
tug yours down to smile
I stand to leave for the streets
you pull off the latex gloves
the barrier’s lifted
you touch my hands I’d forgotten
who I was till then
It’s over in an instant
but my hands purple from cold
hold yours too


Author: poetryfest

Submit your Poetry to the Festival. Three Options: 1) To post. 2) To have performed by an actor 3) To be made into a film.

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