After the ore was extracted, and the mine was closed, people left the area and | the forest came back for the land | The gold was turned to rings, and the rings were handed down | or lost or | melted down and | changed | The trees | turned the light into oxygen | The people wearing the rings | breathed

After the parable ended, and the people walked away | the words waited | The people searched for gold | The words | sank underground and began their long | journey through the darkness | seeking | form | When, much later, people dug them up, the words resembled bits of | worthless roots | Unwilling to dig their mine, feeling it would be | profitless | the people | started to walk off | through the forest and in the cold | winter air, their breath formed | small, pointless | clouds of white vapour…

 


from the series fleeting pixel (series of 1,000 poems, 2012–2016)
(this poem, August 2012)