You might be greater than a petition.
Greater than a poem commissioned
to talk flowery of impending nothingness.
You need nothing greater than to be left alone.
You might be good and blind.
We’re simply not excellent.
Your black market physique, sisters
and brothers iron-bound, unusual ulcers
of their bellies.
Your gilded armour, match for a Tsar,
sought greater than any tusk or tiger fur.
Did you not as soon as roam, a God of Asia,
to peel the bark of historic columns below
clouds of honey?
A fallen acorn, smart and foetal.
Lions, perplexed – is a stone?
Then night time comes and also you roll away
down plains till the land sprouts
scrapers and motorways.
I implore you, Pangolin – hunt down your savannas.
Take within the orange-juice solar and bugs each year.
We now have determined to obliterate Earth
one tiresome annihilation at a time.
We’re cussed as wooden.
Our ancestors’ advances have burst us
like an eardrum in subzero air. Contemporary
from battlefields of information, we are able to
solely assume to signal our names and go it on.
You should be spent.
Salt of the Earth, Pangolin, your leg caught
within the mouth of a medication man. Go cover
in tree hollows, down tunnel kingdoms.
Your lengthy sleep is quick approaching.
Quickly the grime will sook at your bones.
Our capacity see all of it take root as a music
not but written, and do nothing,
carries its personal desolation.
Pangolin, the river of starlight above
has us each ruled in its currents.
David Ross Linklater is a poet from Balintore in Easter Ross. His first pamphlet Ribbons & Rust: Poetry from a Room was self-published in 2014 and gave a nostalgic take a look at how the land and the idea of residence intercept one another. His most up-to-date pamphlet Black Field was printed with Speculative Books in 2018. A journey of contrasts between his life and observations within the metropolis to the landscapes of his hometown. David was shortlisted for the 2020 Edwin Morgan Award.