Courtenay S. Gray shares her solitary birthday party during lockdown in England in her poem “Confectionary Corner” from the international collection of pandemic/isolation verse, prose, and images Global Insides—the beginning. Please share with your students and friends. Courtenay is a twenty-three-year-old writer from the North of England. She has self-published two poetry collections and is currently working on a third collection which will feature fiction and poetry. She also guest-edits for Thorn Literary Magazine.
My breath is ghost snow—dripping with melted ice cream,
Coca-Cola lingering on my liver like the 70 proof Russian vodka I drank as a teen,
Lights of a sun-bed cloud my mind like an adolescent fog,
my intraocular fluid occupied with tea and coffee,
The solitary circular window ripples with a summer balm,
Lockdown birthday filled with last year’s candles and a makeshift cake,
icing yellowed and aged,
Above all, I send a message to you on a wishing star,
You refuse to hear me out,
brushing away the stardust from your pillows and sinking into a lifeless dream,
When this is over, will we be together?
You take the thorn from the rose bush and pilfer my heart with an egregious lack of awareness,
Peering at a strawberry trifle,
the yellow custard turns my stomach,
I see the fatty lining of the bodies being buried by hazmat suits.