27 February 2023
As a child, you caked dirt beneath smiling fingernails,
filthy cuticles swarming with life. Even crawling on your belly,
dirt is not your diet but odd mouthfuls made their way onto the menu.
In giddiness your cheeks tighten, showing the world the ground in your smile.
Your grinding teeth sound louder with your headphones on,
eyes flicking back and forth your laptop screen
following the presenter of a flashy live stream:
We at AgriEcoGreen (formerly Monsanto) feel really bad
about the way that we destroyed your land,
shall we tell you how to make it better?
So, we’ve have been working really hard since it turns out we need a planet too!
We can save the soil with some special seeds,
we can set you up on our subscription plan and if you can’t afford it
we can introduce you to our philanthropic friends, there’s no gatekeeping here!
There are some Ts & Cs of course:
our seeds are infertile;
we’ll send the army in if you work out how to make your own.
but what’s a small coup between friends of the earth? [he throws up a peace sign]
There is almost a sonic boom when you slam the lid,
in the stillness your eyes linger on manicured frowns,
your fingertips flex without a thought or spurred
perhaps by memories of mud.Those soil patches,
if not buried under concrete, lie far more sterile now.
There is work to do, knees to dirty, mouths to feed,
hands to feel and touch and fight and plant and pull and prune,
rests to take beneath the shade with children
who wear your soil-smile and reach for you with clod-gloved hands.
Image Credit: Noah Buscher on Unsplash
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