poem: exist.

 

there’s not much that we can do
to stop the world from turning.
it goes – spinning, and twisting,
and all we can do is hold on for dear life.

the children in the playgrounds
point their hands at the sky and cry,
“the moon, the moon! do you see!
she is coming to visit! see, see!”
as she tumbles down towards us.

some days we exist without sunlight
and some days the sky is blue and pink
and green and gold. when the northern lights
first escaped from our bloodstream,
i thought the world was ending.

when the colours first pooled in the oceans
and in the corners of your eyes,
the painters didn’t know what to do.
when our lungs started to collapse,
when the cars won’t start and the streets are filled.

there’s junk growing in our rib cages and
we’ve still never fallen in love.
did you hear the poets praying?
did you see what it looked like,
right before we doomed the world to die?

our daughters and sons never forgave us.
the children in the playgrounds
bounce the moon like a basketball
and the sky becomes quiet once more.

where did all the people go?

the streets are empty
and the sky is dark
and all of the poets
lie awake in the night.