my precautionary principle

Arthritis and Coronavirus,

These twin demons sit on my shoulders,

Gibbering in my ears like malevolent monkeys:

‘Don’t go out, don’t go out, you can’t go out,

Your legs will give way,

As you attempt to board a bus,

Then you will lie grovelling in the gutter:

And even if you did manage to get on,

You would inhale infected droplets and die.’

But I decide to defy the demons

And pass my front door frontier.

I want to wander in all the everyday

That used to bore me,

I wish to see people ignore me.

And I will not come to harm

Because I will be prepared

Precautions will be taken

No detail will be spared.

I will check to see

That I have my keys,

Then I will bury a spare set in a strongbox,

In a place that only I know.

I will carry a phone with a charger

And a power pack linked to the solar panel

That I attached to the top of the crash helmet

Which I don in case of sudden meteor impacts

Or suddenly falling airliners.

I zip up my water and flameproof outer garments,

Clamber into steel toecapped safety boots

Strap on hardened steel greaves

to protect my shins and ankles.

I cover nose and mouth with a surgical mask,

Connected to the oxygen tank

That I tow behind me

In a specially adapted shopping trolley

I gaze out through polarized goggles.

Then plod a few yards

Before tripping over a cracked paving stone

To lie grovelling in the gutter.