‘[SG] would irradiate everyone, including the most
vulnerable to harm’ Dr Ron Powell
White-haired in moonlight, our shapes
struck from rock to stars
we are the firstborn, the elders,
our sugar-paper leaves: your lungs.
We cradle stars, infinities,
weightlessly carry their snow,
the world-wheel turning in charcoal.
Tousled head, sleep on,
the oak-bug in her taffeta,
moth pupa in fibreglass.
Sleep, sleep, in the world’s wood.
Vibirnum lantana: moon-scent.
Sorbus aria: lullaby.
shield you, durmast and bole
but still you drive deeper,
gigabytes: an alien god, 5G
and children schooled in worship
still awake. Cheekbones
lit with eerie light.
Crinoids in shape-shifting seas.