Sunday, April 10, 2016

Let's forget. A poem of Batticaloa

Let's. Hurry up and get rid of it.
Let's hurry up and bury it. 
Let's hurry and burn it 
Or burn what's left of it
Or burn and bury it. Hurry. 

Let's. Participate in the act of forgetting. 
Let's call it "resilience."
Let's pave it over
Put a new building in its place
Widen the road next to it
Make it a green space
Plan it away. 
Hurry. Or. We can take our time. 

In this climate it will go fast enough
The evidence already in shards and scraps
It will fall away 
It will crumble on itself you'll see
The burning bits fluttering heavenward
Or landing in pits hellish with standing water and plastic garbage, incongruous water hyacinths decorating the mess. 

Let's gather. Now that we can. 
Get down from our motorbikes
Stretch our arms
Fill our phones with selfies
Whole universes of selfies
Encyclopedic, voluminous, 
Selfie as evidence
Selfie as evidence of a lost past a passed past a buried past a past that didn't happen. Not here. Not there. 
Bury our pasts in electrons
More better than brick and mortar or burning or flooding or widening make forgetting a happy dance of electrons and electronics and electricity

Let these pulses work on our behalf
Hurrying up and getting rid of
Hurrying up and burying
Hurrying up and burning
Or burning the parts
Or burning and then burying the parts
Forgetting the cumbersome place names and urls and replacing them with apps to make more selfies and publish more selfies and like more selfies
Finding new smaller places now that we're empty nesting
And kids are selfie-ing
And getting down from their bikes
And congregating in the shade
And giggling widely
In arcs and slouches along the lagoon

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