Read introduction

The backstory to this poem can be found in my blog http://letterstobiddy.com/2014/02/21/self-care/

Clinical

2011-11-27_10.51.26by Moira Deslandes16 Nov 2014

Under the tip of my finger nail
Lies grit and grime and dust.
DNA and muck
Combine to tell a story.

A tale of discovery and pain in a confined space.

I disengage the line of accumulated black grunge
Unsettling each coagulated speck with precision.

I scrape and flick and slide.

A newly made, translucent, clean, crisp bed appears
Ready for new arrivals,
Who too will be evicted at my intervention.

Waste disposal
On the end of a splintered match.

Washing my hands with lavender scented soap
The final sanitising act.

My nails are clean.

Under the tip of my country’s arrogant sovereignty
Lies pain and loss and fear.
War and disaster
Combine to tell a story.

A tale of destruction and death in a confined space.

Disengaging accumulated years of diplomacy
Unsettling each carefully constructed clause with precision.

I quiver and squirm and hide.

A newly made, lacking all transparency, Minister appears
No room for new arrivals,
Who are evicted by his intervention.

Waste disposal
On the end of a splintered policy.

Washing hands in an ocean of orange coloured boats
The final sanitising act.

My soul is unclean.