Cinderland

Sometimes you wake in your jacked city
to the Earth grinding its teeth and you weep
at how raw the dawn has become.

Today the clocks go forward and so do we.
Forest conflagrations that were visible from space
will cease as will the burning of bears like witches.

Atolls that opened their petals and had corals
bleached for tourists in white linen
will rise up again unsunk and turtle friendly.

Imperial icebergs will apologise
for a recent tendency to gush and split and groan
to the applause of Arctic cruise ships.

Pipelines will be decorated with cherubs
and painted gold for every carbon cult to venerate
with vintage barrels on World Oil Day.

The burdens of truth that made us stumble
like pit ponies to a prick of light at the tunnel’s end
will be outsourced to humdrum data centres.

New ghosts will operate the grey machines
so the jellied eels of our brains will finally be free
to wriggle delightfully in their bone safe kegs.

First appeared in Modron Magazine, July 2026 with interview.