New poetry from Wellington-born writer Ursula Robinson-Shaw.
Everything is nice
they have announced the last day
mel waters the garden
the dirt is hard for summer
everybody is hard for summer
to drink lavish cocktails
to meet-cute on the table
of the harsh dissolving seasons
to take girls back to our houses
in our bone-dry arms the angel of history
scissors with her back turned
i take girls back to my house and tell them
that they have announced the last day
the water runs downhill
to where the bats roost
they have announced the last day
the gentle nihilism of pop songs
the righteous luxury of tolerance
the assembly line of ageing counter-vindicated
it was a joint effort human and mechanical error
everything bright
beneath the blanket of a nuclear winter
the faint whine of youth receding
like a sweet mosquito cowboy
if bats are from hell then hell is nice
the bats are from hell and hell is nice
i watch the bats uncuriously
they have announced the last day
we are tired and grateful
the last day is like a dream on purpose
it is a bushfire i move slowly
like an old mare in the mud
like sponge cake thrown at the ceiling
cream dripping down the wall
i move up the drainpipe
through the guttering
through the roof up and up
there in the smoke the last copper light
the bats at their work i look out
beforehand the last day was neutral
it nestled invisibly between its keepers
like divine error in a landscape
between the shoulders of conspirators
it was restful like graves it was expecting
but they have released the last day
the last day has dropped
and the properties of the real world
collapse like a thumb puppet
the bubble of my person
flattens into a circle
an office worker rising
with her hair
into an air vent sliced up by the rapture
the roller blinds backlit with force and heat
permafrost melting ancient bacteria blooming in the dirt
the last day creeps up and i don’t have time
to arrange a romance and die with you
nobody gets to put their affairs in order
they announce the last day at a press conference
with corrugated mumbling
not looking at each other
there are headlines about agriculture
there are hurt feelings
there are old ladies staying in their houses
they have announced the last day!!
will you love me
this sinkhole is our party
the cheap conclusion of every unhad thing
mel waters the garden everything is nice the whine grows louder
and a great slap resounds across reclaimed land