In another life we grow stalk by twisted stalk. You drop fruit:
we are laden with too much. In another life we are squirrel-like
animals, rodents, we scurry and shudder together
carrying ripe berries through too-dark trees. We’re scared:
everything is scary when it casts shadows over you.
In another life we are the shadows. In another life
we are the first fish who gasp air; we are the last fish
whose family have evolved beyond them; we are the fish whose bodies
(for whatever quirk of geography) do not get fossilised.
Once we are gone we simply slip away leaving no trace.
In another life we are not important except to each other:
we live a long and happy existence.
We breathe in and breathe out, we grow. Stalk
by twisted stalk, like wrinkled old paws clasping one another.
we are laden with too much. In another life we are squirrel-like
animals, rodents, we scurry and shudder together
carrying ripe berries through too-dark trees. We’re scared:
everything is scary when it casts shadows over you.
In another life we are the shadows. In another life
we are the first fish who gasp air; we are the last fish
whose family have evolved beyond them; we are the fish whose bodies
(for whatever quirk of geography) do not get fossilised.
Once we are gone we simply slip away leaving no trace.
In another life we are not important except to each other:
we live a long and happy existence.
We breathe in and breathe out, we grow. Stalk
by twisted stalk, like wrinkled old paws clasping one another.
Alice Wickenden (@alicewickenden) is a PhD student and poet. Her first book, To Fall Fable, is out now with Variant Literature; a poetic memoir on Scouting, Thriftwood, is forthcoming with Broken Sleep Books in 2022.