mum sends me a video of my great-grandma
framed by concrete & balloons & the carpark-coloured sky
a canted view of her waving out the window to my family below
it’s her 104th birthday & the 13th month of lockdowns
evening clapping & beautiful bloo passports
~
i try to imagine what’s it like
i print off analogy maps tht i use to teach year nines simile
i fill them in: what are the aspects of this
what do these feel like?
~
she was born during the first world war
had a child to an american GI
consumed a bottle of whiskey a week
i hate to admit therapists have been right
but it must be one foot then another foot
~
i sell my body for 55 hours a week
& it feels ordinary
~
i am just one of 78 billion agricultural animals
~
the titanic sank for two hours
people had time to distract themselves
~
watching the video i can’t help but feel like
tears would be a commodity
~
no one in close family has died
but when they do the content will remain
the thumblike selfies w generous ceiling views
will acquire reactions in-between sponsored posts
~
all the while a new wave of intergenerational tension is crashing down
in the form of the hatred for skinny jeans
it took me so long to realise i didn’t hate boomers
i just hate landlords
~
tht i was so righteous in poems about politics
when i was buried in the landfill of propaganda
~
how is it different when my grandma believes
tht the EU wouldn’t allow the sale of bent cucumbers
we are all in some big tent
we all are hooked by something
~
bc between the crying & the working
how was i supposed to know rocketlab
were sending US military payloads into space?
~
how was i supposed to know about shelly bay & the wellington company
when i was too busy killing the planet stuck in commuter traffic
~
i can’t possibly drag myself out of the primordial soup of the infodemic
to go live in the woods now
all i do is watch
paralysed by ddos of petitions
flailing my arms like a tube man
sad reacting to every post