EARTH

EARTH
She floated above the floral roundabouts and knew they meant something.
But what, she could not decide. They were nostalgia’s spine. Their significance in previous lives stayed out of reach ……..She floated…………….By an antagonising fraction her hair had grown extremely long. The soles of her feet felt like dough……She floated…….The cloud formations were moving at the speed of the loss of childhood and lit up sunrise and sunset flickering like a strobe, yet it was night, she floated…Her hair grew longer still, it engulfed the globe and could by no means be untangled from it until naked winter’s magnet repels. She has no objection. She never begun to walk through the enormous empty buildings alone, neither will she ever cease to. She is from the stars. Let us call her. Watch the television reader’s face change to hers. Feel her tears of joy in your tap water. Let her faith pour off the pad of your back in the shower…..Inherit her infatuation for silence. See how it need not be dramatic. See her face outside your window and do not be frightened. Will you dance with her in Paraguay? At harvest you’ll need to be nocturnal.
　
She floated above the snow cat and knew it meant nothing.
Remember she is still hatching an we ‘if you will’ are the shell.
I don’t suppose it ill come as a surprise to you that she is reticent to smile.
She is not shallow enough to be ill fated……..How dare anyone say that?!!
　
She is watching the automobile evolve into a streamlined capsule,
The white wall tires and running boards hold no more character in her eyes.
Relativity is the basin in which she bathes.
Still her hair grows longer and longer, stifling the universe and filling up it’s every space.
I wonder if she dreams.
Last night she floated into your room and a child was born and a town gossip died and a deal was struck up and celebrations were postponed and an era lost its way and a marksman held up his Blunderbuss to the macabre Victorian gas lamp and realised in an instant he was enslaved to recurring inevitability.
　
She floated like the feather of a magpie into a candle lit asylum.
She is snuffing them out now.
She is lighting them again now.
Everting are sibling and cousin to her and nothing is her Mother.
…………………..She floated!
　
TIM SANSOM DECEMBER 1991