Impulse

This anti-social distancing
is a sensual waste.
I cannot touch your hair
smell your smell
or taste your taste.
Shielded by screens
I see your moving image,
hear your voice,
try to read your expression
beneath a masked face,
gauging mood and feeling
by your eyes alone.
My impulse to reach out
meets only glass and air.
Invisible indifferent danger
determines our days.
For the moment
human warmth is memory,
till boundaries dissolve.

Steve Bishop

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