And there we wept
Today I will cycle on the Birmingham canal
on the surface of the water to the bird reserve.
Today I will cycle to the bird reserve
and build a cairn in the middle of the lake.
I will pile up all the poems in the world
on the surface of the lake up to the sky
and the kingfisher will sit at the summit.
And the prophets of Baal in the City of London
will sacrifice ostriches on the roof of Heron Tower.
and they will call down fire on the Amazon
and they will call down fire on Alaska
and they will call down fire on the permafrost
and they will launch a rocket of champagne.
Today, Elijah sits puzzled by his altar.
The flame of outrage leaps from screen to screen.
and the kings of the nations pat him on the head
in agreement, and light cigars by oil wells
in the Arctic, and hug snarling huskies.
A heatwave comes down like a wolf on the fold,
smoke rising from its nostrils. Its chariots of fire
evaporate the wells of drinking water
which fall as cloudbursts on the sinking rafts.
Today we hurl named and unnamed species
into unmarked graves around the world.
Today I burn my poems. Incense. Gas.
The council of the kings distracts the lemmings’
synchronised swimming across the lake at the bird reserve.
Screech like an owl above the ruins. Swoop.
This poem is included in my book A Place to Keep My Shadow. I performed at the Birmingham Festival of Voices event in the church in pigeon park on 8 August 2024.
Short link to this page: fewings.uk/wept