a poem
this was written as part of a small project where two of us undertook to write something inspired by a piano improvisation by Amanda Palmer.
You could find a tree and sit under it
for as long as it pleased you
and the promise held true
that you would depart neither soaked nor sunburnt
once you were done with yourself
you could compost
to come up again as a patch of wildflowers
fragrant and undead, if a bit scattered
there is a silent library of scents
of damp soil, dead mice and tuberose
but while the nose has a memory
it cannot conceptualise a whiff of the unknown
there was ice, baby
it fell from the sky to end in your glass
and one time it ended
in a whole little continent
once a year, you could wake up
to find a difference in the air
and the birds would depart
because they had other places to be
there was so much water
we could swim in it
and you wouldn’t believe me if I told you
that we did
this is the time and place that I come from
we would colour it in green and blue
back then