Walls, by Gavin Duncan
We build walls between ourselves and nature.
We build walls between ourselves and nature.
Though nothing natural / Can save them now.
The sunflowers don spiderweb veils, / carefully beaded with dew.
Long, wide pass of the blades, across glass and built-up snow-gut.
What does it mean to be alive?
I draw in / close enough to hear the crackle / of snowmelt. Ice unclenches its fist.
How to talk about a copper sky?
The car seemed cool until / You didn’t want to be seen in it
I understand this, how all artists / are essentially magpies at heart, / gathering shiny things and squirreling them away
Here at night / I sleep with you / inside ice houses