By Therese Lloyd
When I was “in despair” (the dark days
when I actually used such terms)
I noticed the behavior of animals —
sleep when tired, eat when hungry
That made a lot of sense to me
and yet I felt different
I felt my humanness too much
No fly ever wonders whether it should make
lots and lots of maggots
It gives birth on a mound of cat food
or inside the rubbish bin
As far as I know
it’s not worried about overpopulation
or what sort of environment its kids
will grow up in
My humanness sees me at an art gallery
watching others
watching walls
My humanness gives me dark thoughts
of cruel behavior
You are in the States
a visa glitch and there you remain
Like Star Trek, I talk to you on a screen
your face half a second out of sync
with your speech
I’m in the future
my Tuesday is already over
and I want to tell you all about it
to prove my superiority
That lovely conceit of time
that saw people travel from all over the world
to be in Gisborne
for the first sunrise
of the new millennium
Remember
how we all thought the sewer pipes would burst
and the criminals would escape
or something like that
Y2K packs sent to every household
because no one knew for certain
what the numbers 2000 really meant
Somewhere, people, important people
cowered in bunkers
fearing the worst
Source: Poetry (February 2018)
Poet Bio
More Poems about Activities
Golden Hour
When you caught one to keep,
we took it home and I asked you to teach me.
You showed me how to spike the brain—
I thanked the fish, looked away, pressed down.
We bled it, shaved away the scales,
severed meat from bone.
I’m afraid...
A Wing and a Prayer
We thought the birds were singing louder. We were almost certain they
were. We spoke of this, when we spoke, if we spoke, on our zoom screens
or in the backyard with our podfolk. Dang, you hear those birds? Don’t
they sound loud?...
More Poems about Living
Spring Snow
A spring snow coincides with plum blossoms.
In a month, you will forget, then remember
when nine ravens perched in the elm sway in wind.
I will remember when I brake to a stop,
and a hubcap rolls through the intersection.
An angry man grinds...
At the Equinox
The tide ebbs and reveals orange and purple sea stars.
I have no theory of radiance,
but after rain evaporates
off pine needles, the needles glisten.
In the courtyard, we spot the rising shell of a moon,
and,...
More Poems about Nature
Listening in Deep Space
We've always been out looking for answers,
telling stories about ourselves,
searching for connection, choosing
to send out Stravinsky and whale song,
which, in translation, might very well be
our undoing instead of a welcome.
We launch satellites, probes, telescopes
unfolding like origami, navigating
geomagnetic storms, major disruptions.
Rovers...
At the Equinox
The tide ebbs and reveals orange and purple sea stars.
I have no theory of radiance,
but after rain evaporates
off pine needles, the needles glisten.
In the courtyard, we spot the rising shell of a moon,
and,...