Matt Palmer


I’m calling from a future nearer
than the numbers predicted
We’ll be alive together—witness
a warming planet, taller oceans
We’ll read kanji & trace the days
of the week to their elements

MONDAYSWe’ll portion to the moon
work half the hourstravel
on a crescent of fuel
TUESDAYSWe’ll save fire
for what we can’t see
under natural light
Fill the bath
for each family membersoak in it
wash our clothes in it
Count the holes in the canopy
sprinkle the soiluntil it sparkles
breathe in our gardens
SUNDAYSStand in the heat
dress in vibrant colors
& revel in their fading shades
This will be our fashion,
our conscious break,
a stalling—
Do you read your plant’s leaves?
They curl yellow to say
they’re tired of the storms
Brown they’re hurt by days too bright
Do you count your lover’s moles
formed in a summer still in winter?
What can you tell from a hazy sky
& brackish sea once a blue mirror?
Read the cloud shapes & mourn
the animals that once were
To write forest, we stack three trees
This implies the many, not the minimum
Moon is the sun character with wispy ends
& sun with moon spells bright as in the future
soon here, flickering

Person is the rendering of legs in stride
One-legged—we’re just a syllable
Arms outstretched to all solutions—
we could be great
& person beside tree is rest


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