“The revolution is here”, she said
assessing the uprising
I answered “If we lived long enough,
we’d see evolution at work,”
“well you’ve changed,” she said
So I lowered my book
and calmly pointed out
that even as it bobs in the amniotic sea
where lightning first spannered together
idle protein for a cause called Life,
Love is peering as oily waves lift it,
imagining landfall, limbs,
labouring up the untrodden strand
onto a a landmass new-touched by green
in search of oases and locusts
and courtship and other things
yet to resolve
She said, “we used to be so close
but you’ve let a gulf open up.”
Her tone didn’t rile me. I held back
explaining that when the jigsaw on continental plates was
shuffled
just so, and all the curves and edges
had plucked together like lips,
Love was locked into Pangaea,
a perfect fit with everything else;
but hardened by earlier cycles of meeting, parting
faulting, rifts, it couldn’t stay comfortable,
worked itself free
from the Triassic heat and dust
to inch around the globe again
matching it’s curved margins against other continents,
chafing, colliding making mountains.
“Yesterday our love made the earth tremble,” she said
“it was bigger than anything. Now you say all that’s gone,”
Up till then I’d given ground, made allowances,
I said, “OK. This isn’t something new.
There’s scientific precedents you know.”
And as I was searching for simple descriptions of dinosaur
wipe-out
sudden extinction, the force of the movement
a mile wide meteorite met the earth
she was up and off, this time for good
closing the door with an almighty
bang!
67paintings 