Frontline
written by: Elizabeth Barton
@DestinyAngel25
Supermarkets become a frontline of battle
(don’t mention the toilet paper, or the brawl
over the last chicken in a Hawkes Bay store).
Buying groceries is a military operation,
full metal jacket; surgical mask, rubber gloves,
a vial of hospital-grade sanitiser
fit to knock me out if I inhale too deeply.
My mask practically blinds me as I fumble,
glasses steam up as I thumb through my list.
Dodging bullets of any innocent cough is a new art;
aisles are trenches, the enemy swift and unseen;
I dart through my chores with a sniper handcart.
Elizabeth Barton is an artist and poet from New Zealand, with work featured in Pink Plastic House, Fevers of the Mind, Black Bough Poetry’s Rapture and Christmas/Winter Edition 2021 and Vita Brevis Literature, Nothing Divine Dies. A winner of the 2020 White Label Cinq competition, she has a forthcoming poetry collection to be published by Hedgehog Poetry Press. Her art is in private and public collections worldwide, including the V & A Prints Collection, London.
Latest posts by Elizabeth Barton (see all)
- Rain in Pirongia - April 12, 2024
- Delight of Cows - June 14, 2023
- Splendor Solis - December 23, 2022
