A night of urinary tract infection

Type: Poetry
First Published on: Pandemic Diaries
Word Length:
Themes: Existentialism, Illness, Despair

The poem was written on one of those lonely cold dreary nights in which you fear you have eaten a lot and you have urinary tract infection, and it is very cold and there are only walls.

This is going to be a long night. There’s 
No sleeping tonight, There are no owls, 
Just a bare pink room screeching from 
All sides. And a headphone and a smart 
Phone, to stare into. There is nothing, 
Except for an itch, in the urethra.

This is going to be a long night. There is 
Nothing. Really. Literally Nothing, except 
For a few words. The world is small and 
The trees are dead. And the winter is 
Suddenly gone, And the warmth of the 
Room suffocates. Outside? There is no

“Outside.” And outside, a few dogs 
Are quietly wailing a dirge of hope
For me. That the itch will go soon.
And a new sparkling stream will
Take its place. But the night —

It will remain.
In my memories. In this poem. 
Even when the dogs are dead. 
And the stars are gone. And 
The sky is glittering with the 
Sun. Without clouds.

This night will be watched.
And there won’t be a day 
For it to shrink into.