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Boy in Self-Quarantine

So he imprisoned himself? Or is that 

The right term? He locked himself down?

He shielded himself from the virus

With those corrugated GI sheets

That would only allow us glimpse 

His red shorts and street-worn flip-flops?

No, he wouldn’t sneak out of his detention

By crawling under the beam that helped

Keep the GI sheets upright. And the scant

Shade of the scrawny coconut palm,

An accent of green against dirty concrete

Its trunk crooked and emaciated,

Constant reminder of the city’s hunger. 

We even agree with the use of prison terms, 

That the boy has in fact given up any sort

Of freedom. How noble then, or how apt 

For self-preservation. He wouldn’t want 

To infect others or catch the death

Of himself as if he were aware of it.

So, of what had he deprived himself?

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SelfQuarantine BenRazon.jpg

Maybe his livelihood of peddling sweets

Or flowers among the jeepneys stalled

In traffic? Or was it just the chance 

To play games of tag with his fellow

Children of Chaos, as it were, the pavements

Under the traffic lights being their 

Playground? Or do we ask ourselves,

From our side of the wall, what we’ve been

Deprived of under the lockdown? 

The stroll in the air-conditioned mall? 

The fast-food snack, the browse among

The glass displays and fitting rooms

Of the department store? Thus we are barely

Aware of each other as we pass—in fact

Blind and invisible—as we snap the picture

From within or behind our own walls.

Thus the photograph segregates our worlds. 

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Marne Kilates

9 August 2021

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                      After the photograph by Ben Razon

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