In the footsteps of giants

She climbs a kaleidoscope mountain
gritted with dirt, but not time.
She stumbles on its glossy shingle
loves the way the pebbles shine.

In the cleft of the slope is a fossil
a squat but long-necked beast
speckled with rust from its jagged grin
right down to its four round feet.

She imagines the creatures that lived here
on this desolate planet of things
before the dust clouds and contagions
in an age of hopeful springs.

In the distance she senses the ocean
the tumbling shapes of its waves
like a moving mass of coarse fabric
tugging at the shoreline’s frays.

She imagines the scene from her summit
hears the rattling breath of the world
the volatile air tastes acrid
with her tender antennae unfurled.

As the last living memory of sentience
kept snug in a carapace jewel
that repels the detritus tornadoes,
burning forests and surging pools,

she descends that multicoloured mountain
still searching for meaning in life –
for something akin to light and warmth
beyond what it takes to survive.

There’s plenty still left to consume here
in the words of a species long passed
their tomes provide lifelong buffets
the legacies they thought would last,

but all life here was endangered
and the earth is too cracked and charred
for one cockroach to do much reviving
as sole heir of a graveyard.


Happy World Poetry Day!

I’d also like to add that I will once again be taking part in Escapril – thirty days of daily poetry prompts – over on my Instagram account. Follow me to see how I get on!

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