learning to read

Mar Bucknell

absence is not erasure
erasure is not absence
the signs are all around
but you must look carefully
and remember
what you see is brand new history
made by squinting

hold your nose and listen
the song changes
shout into the breeze
you will see the wrong trees
a hill that has moved
a river led astray
and the sun has lost its voice

each standing tree
is an absent breath
a stolen breath
a voice away

if you cannot see the songs
you have forgotten how to read the river

the water will not speak to you
it cannot hear your handfuls of sand
but it has also lost its way
the wind would tell it how far to walk

is this the best we can do?
lie among the leaves
eat the air
forget your feet
and listen

listen.
sing me.
shush me.
i will not be here.

where i am is secret
find my bones in trees
but only the ones we cannot see.

which are the flowers you will not see?
they are in the songs
you refuse to sing
the ones that taste like blood
blood lost
to sand
where flowers flow

Previously published in Creatrix