global-warming

Eat, Sleep, Work, Repeat

These feel like the end days

Of life. The sun, the moon,

The clouds that move, the

Train that stops at every stop

And then goes back again.

The cyclists in the queue

At the traffic lights, leading

South. How long it feels, this

March to death, this mess of

Locks and wheels and limbs

That we call civilisation. How

Vile the stench of sweating

Plastic and half-eaten sandwiches

Discarded in the wrong section

Of the bin, into general rubbish

The world is so loud at night

I hear Morocco pulsing

In my feet and Hong Kong

Twinkling in my throat

 

Montserratian and Barbadian lapping

Ears over to New Orleans,

Rolling down to Acapulco

 

Further down Columbian greens

That heard my father’s

First word to the world

 

Now I’m flying high above

The deep giant squids and

Corals, fighting and fading into blue

 

Back to Europe, Corfu

Familiar pieces of the jig saw puzzle

Curling at the edges, many missing

 

Do of it what can be done

With what is left, before

Some breeze, dog or toddler gusts it apart, unthinking.