VACCINE

On this side of the glass
she pushes her palm flat against the mark
his palm left on the window’s winter grime
two palms together
heat like a fever
now loneliness drains her, leaves her shrunken
an old woman sitting alone, hand pressed to a window.

He told her about
the greatest minds across the world in laboratories
stirring up antibodies in glass tubes
shaking old medicines so hard they shatter into something new
about volunteers rolling up shirt sleeves in trials they hope
will ease our tribulations.

His handprint is fading now
heat to vapour
her hand pulls away slowly, sinks down to her lap
clothed today in fleece soft like twilight.

Maybe, she thinks, late one night shift
in a laboratory lit by light soft like fleece
one of those great minds will encounter
a happy accident
like the glue for those yellow reminder notes or
champagne
and across the world we’ll roll up our shirt sleeves
to receive a vaccine that drains away all our loneliness and
for the rest of our lives we love so fierce
heat like a fever.