"What We Love", Jerome Lim
Watch the coast. Angular substance
of the world tucked in a teal & shining
duvet; tread quietly. As poetry taught us:
in the end the things we love give back
our names. No names returned so far,
only the moment of their unnecessary
departure. Elsewhere burning steeples
are in vogue; they’re just like you,
but richer. Hold a night vigil for these
glaciers of old: why would they ever
choose to melt again? The bears
need them. Each returning season is
funded by popular demand: the last
great global challenge & we huddle
in pleistocene silence around the screen.
This poem is dedicated to the
cockroaches & primacy of speech;
long may they reign after our proud,
inevitable death. Icewalls soon to be
mythical, done in not by pesky necrotic
dragons, but by those who don’t listen
& we love too much to say so.