if we discard paper more carefully –
origami-like – firming each slow fold
with the flat of a thumb, if we bury
apple cores when the earth is damp and cold,
if we throw tin to the salt of the sea,
if we sandpaper down our dry mountains
of ball rubber, if we just plant more trees
to spine land-crabs to the land, if the sin
of tyres could be given to mosquitoes,
battery acid to the ants, if this new
Pacific Island of bags could feel the throes
and ultra-violence of the sun, would You
spare us the passive aggression of your ire,
the bile of your spit and the tantrum of your fire?
Brent Cantwell is a New Zealand writer from Timaru, South Canterbury, who lives with his family in the hinterland of Queensland, Australia. He teaches high school English and has been writing for pleasure for 23 years. He has recently been published in Sweet Mammalian, Turbine/ Kapohau, Cordite, Brief, Blackmail Press, Landfall, London Grip and Takahe.