Sunday, 25 December 2016

it's my knees, there's gravel in there; for Karen

This creature is a visitor. It comes from a constellation of animals that have names like Slinker and Ectopolis and Montreal Subterranean Aquatic Conjectures. But because none of our animals are catalogued, we do not know what family It has, if any. There are bits of it scattered in all the cobblestones on a garden path. Linings of all the pores where water seeps in. This is what produces the smell of damp stone after a summer rainstorm. The respirations of this creature. Let us call It Henry. Henry is quiet. Henry wears hats. Henry dances when there are solar flares because it feels solar flares are absolutely incredible and everyone should be able to see them. It does not realize that the dancing brings in other things, love and damp and fear and colours and the concept of symmetry and where shadows go when we turn out the lights. I believe it will learn this as it grows. When Henry leaves, it leaves behind a very thoughtful gift in gratitude. A photo of a long-left-behind friend. A can and coil spring to shake for the sound of thunder in a coming drought. It also leaves a second gift without thinking of it at all. Without knowing. A sock or a cough sweet or even a hat. Henry doesn't lose anything. It believes everything is alive and has the capacity to wander.

No comments:

Post a Comment