The Sisyphus of Petworld
you burrow towards the lighting
seventeen metres up
your pink pads polish the perspex wall
for now your back paws hold you steady
and I’m guessing you know deep down
in your Syrian hamster heart
that the light you so desperately
reach for isn’t real sunlight
but it’s up there so you buff away
your paws like Ali’s gloves at the punchball
the sides so slippery you climb so slowly
sometimes you slide down several inches
and start again
the staff top up your water and feed
every morning to keep you whirring
but at 8pm this cavernous shed
will be secured
humans will turn out the lights
and you will rest
then try again tomorrow
You Sent Me A Mixtape, Not A Playlist, With
a miniature collage of cut out guitarists and singers
in various blues for a poster
on the perspex door of this gallery you curated
just for me
I entered and read the list of exhibits:
Zagreb by The Fall
Ping Pong by Stereolab
Any Way That You Want Me by Spiritualised
On The Rocks by The June Brides
in your scrawl crammed
into what you thought
was all the available space
spread out when you realised
there was more room
on the other side
On the spine you wrote the title:
By That Sweet Neck
I visited so often
rushed to my favourites
until the tape heads started biting
held my breath
disentangled knots from the mechanism
brown strands spilled everywhere
gripped the cassette between my knees
and respooled with a yellow bic
heard you whisper with each careful turn
fed the tape through slowly
kept the right side up
prayed the folds and crinkles
got ironed out
twisted the reel until it was taut
applied cleaning fluid
to the heads with a cotton bud
Pressed play, and waited
Flights, Issue Fourteen, November 2024
Flight of the dragonfly 