BURN YOUR HOUSE DOWN TO SAVE IT FROM THE FIRE

Four poems inspired by climate anxiety
An excerpt from a self-published book of poetry (2019)
By Dayna Mahannah

EMPATHY
asked what it makes you feel
you say
              sad
asked how it makes you feel
you say
              like the ants you
              seared with sun rays
              through the mean side
              of a magnifying glass

OBSERVATIONS OF THE UPSIDE
trees, trees, unburnt
aren't all roads forever
if you take the right turns?
the radio says, hello hello hello
the double yellow line morphs
into perforated highway
tear-a-way and
every few kilometres
locally grown fruit
roll across the floor of the rented Toyota
—relics of destinations past
framed by back seat windows
a river audacious enough
gushed by and
it does not linger
the radio says, come water me, oh oh
for a moment the pavement here just
doesn't bake the same
maybe
traffic stretches time
into see-through gauze

the peaches taste like shade

TOO LATE STAGE CAPITALISM
thinking ahead lost relevance
the year the bees died
still, honey prices rocketed.
ten thousand a jar
marketed as 
the nectar
of the tears
of the sun god
Ra
who hath
with his fury
cried 'til the flowers swam
and while the people in
the castles in the hills
searched google for
'ancient egyptian embalming practices'
their moats grew florid with
the bodies of the valley people
draped in bloated bees
and wet roses

SURVIVAL CRED
murder,
suicide:
                           the subject of
                         one of those
pre-apocalyptic
jokes told
between old friends passing
in the street
on a sunday night.
o, how their laughter
lit up 
                 the end in sight

Written by Dayna Mahannah
Edited by Maggie McPhee
Image by Simone Buzzoni from Unsplash

See these poems read by the author plus a discussion about her work:

Read more by this Author & Others: