Twelve Days of Lockdown: 1.

A project in which I responded to Colin Potsig’s beautiful lockdown walk photographs with my poems (& vice versa).

Stump

Like a punch from behind,

a tooth breaking off at its bloody root

leaving you with a shocking black gap

like waking up at your own snore

gasping for air

the upending of the world

when you put your foot

on a step that isn’t there.

It’s alright to tell us this had been

foreseen for years 

in plans, models, rehearsals

that’s not how we were struck,

that’s not what froze our core

like the siren of the alarm clock,

a white bomb glare.

So tell us again 

about what always grows back

about slender shoots growing 

from blasted stumps,

green fishing rods into the future,

tender rebuttals to the torn out page

that used to be tomorrow.

Here is destruction we can bear to look at,

here is hope we can borrow. 

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