DOING MY SELF-CARE APP WHILE EARTH IMPLODES
& it feels impertinent to be proud of myself for drinking water
when there’s none of it to water the roses outside &
the drought is only mildly inconvenient but people are
dying in california. &
the rotting petals spray across the concrete path outside &
listen to scarlet gunfire on the tv, blanketing the radio
promising destruction of the enemy; & so instead of
listening i’ll check off paint in the conservatory
because it has the best light. & we had
a burglar in our house last night, but it’s okay because
we let him in. & he wore a mask of skin over inhuman
mechanical brains & i saw myself in his eyes. & he only
took things that didn’t matter, & now thanks to him
i don’t need the light of the conservatory to make paintings &
doesn’t that make art so much more accessible &
i don’t even feel sorry for checking off eat lunch
on my palliative self-care app
while there are people starving, because i am a callous
& soulless creature. i spend $24.99 on a stuffed animal
instead of saving a palestinian child. by the end of the day
the plush cat is wet with tears & stained with
the blood like the money it was bought with
where i have torn the mask of my skin away
revealing a monster underneath,
someone who lets kids die. & i check off
make a clichéd self-aggrandizing metaphor
to make yourself feel like the victim &
poets are meant to write about the ocean
so: in the beautiful glittering aquamarine ocean
people are drowning & an ocean between us
doesn’t mean i can’t taste the salt. i do not check off
stay off social media because i must pay my penance,
must grieve for every single life lost because who else will &
i do not check off do not drown because ICE is deporting
a mother & her child across that ocean,
that vast sparkling azure ocean &
regardless of my own vain guilt
today is the beginning of luigi mangione’s show trial
behind the courthouse they pile up the rotting bodies
with no graves. & i went there once, to see the evidence
for myself, a reminder that rebelling doesn’t work
they’ll hang him tomorrow, & i’ll pretend i’m
grieving for the ukrainian children. my plush cat
will testify in my defence at my kafka trial. i’ll buy
a book banned in 19 school districts in texas, &
read it instead of the news. & i’ll check off
stay alive but today that feels impertinent.
Alexandria Farrington
Year 12
St Marys’ College, Wellington
