My country has no faith in teamwork,
but has faith in the myth of lemmings
jumping from cliffs to secure profits.
We hunt as strangers fighting for the last
token gesture in a forest made for treehouses,
hammocks, and all those useless bluebells.
….Everybody is photographing bluebells.
….And I still can’t tell the difference.
….Between forget-me-nots and foxgloves.
I have not seen the glory of Prynne’s arc
but I assume it reads like a rainbow drawn
in invisible ink – where colour meets imagination.
How do you draw the lines of a divided country?
Where do we put our efforts for a beaten system?
The stars are sewn with silkworms.
– Aaron Kent
Five ways to comfort a kitten
I’m writing to you from the land of my dead
and I can’t stop aping the accent. I can’t
quite accept that Scotland is not really mine.
But the border is fluid for now, for now.
Yesterday I saw my great-great-(great?)
grandfather’s headstone, stashed in ivy.
The day before, I found a cluster of my Tods
in a lair. I found a slam of Ivanka’s book
and saw lambs. I had a mocha and an argument.
How do you turn off these notifications?
Kitten with larva in his head
The scenery is neon/pretty with conifers, lochs,
SNP posters, and my phone goes off
and there’s the incline ahead. I should share
my death story – that’ll sort this all out.
Ahem, then. I would have been just as dead,
as Alexander Leslie and ivyed up
half my life ago, from a swollen brain,
without the NHS; five nations of brains
stood over me. Give me ten. We’re losing them.
So I do sign things. I like things and nothing.
The saddest kitten you’ve ever seen
Today was somebody’s somethingeth birthday
Today the cloud symbol was white with a sun
Today I shut all the tabs and windows
Today I hearted a marathon run
Today a queer teen was pushed from a building
Today there are 30 vaquitas left
Today a black kitten leapt out of a crisp box
Today I remembered that Tod means death.
– Kirsten Irving