I am saying that I have been here before.
Maybe last spring. Maybe
those glazed purple days
cold with a vivid naked cold
that set my bones afire
martyrized every tree.
It is the past and I am something.
The cave wall. The murdered palace.
I am the oil field. The scaffold
in the city.
The ghost ship
cresting waves for riches.
I have been to Paris
Kissed the bearded men with catfish eyes.
I have made prophecies of their greed
I have made ends justify the means.
I see better for not seeing clearly.
That black dog on the road, it is a bear
I’ve seen it dance in chains
I’ve seen it speared, skinned, roasted
Its sabre skull laid out on an altar.
I have worshipped fear.
It is the future and I am nothing
But biology degrading. Corals bleached.
I am nothing but the one bending
to poisoned rivers
in a nuclear winter
past lives packed beneath my feet.
1 August 2016