The sound of you and I saving the world
1 Minute Read Time
If you forget everything, remember
the angle of the sun collapsing
through beach grass we tangled up
with the fates of panicked, coursing
bodies that weren’t our bodies,
little black forms we pretended could be
a metaphor to hold in our hands:
everything is so small
when you are trying to save the world
is something you might have said
about the ants or
about the planet. But what’s a rock.
They made their own sand, brashly
surviving despite us
huddled around their home, as if
our touch wasn’t
magic. When you are
laced, time is gone and you feel one
with totality, like the same sun
polishes us the same.
But it doesn’t and we turn
pink and we carry on to the next
adventure, daring the glare
to poison our naked bodies
as it glints against the water,
without needing the fear
that someone is
watching us: we take fistfuls
of sand and pretend
like we made it.
Read more from Issue 21.1.
