The earth we are made of


Selected poems





The floodplain is full of the black earth we are made of. All of the world’s particles pass through this zone: yours, too. Have them arranged so your heart can weigh in. Have them in order, crystallised and formatted. The light frothing up will hold your new name. Hurry to smear this stinking mud all over your life events: erase them all. Know yourself as you are for the last time. Even as we watch you are changing, hadron by hadron, boson and fermion the electron and neutron flying to new positions. If light is congealing, know it is the end: of skin against earth; against the salute of the era. Have your memories boxed in terabytes. Have your fingerprints hankering for a new atomic arrangement. And then there is nothing to recall.





Perhaps the rooster crows —

not to welcome the sun

or pull the day out the its bath of darkness —

but in gratitude

for the slippery world

shining clear

as a bird’s short life.




Topic tags: Lucy Alexander, poetry



submit a comment


Subscribe for more stories like this.

Free sign-up