Today, as always, Alice is aware of numbness
cold-rolling along the ground toward her;
aware of cows outside the window,
pregnant their whole short lives to whiten her tea,
and of closing her mind to that brutality.
She believes that if she does not
make money she will be hungry, homeless
and left covered in shit when she’s old;
that the world around her is dying
and everyone is trying to blame each other.
Alice watches water vapour nourish life,
a planet ecology full of healing green,
plant cells that read sun patterns exactly.
She watches a leaf’s first curl towards the lawn,
wonders if trees know they’ll be reborn.
There is a nuclear fusion reactor in the sky,
daily turning Alice on and off,
but her world of machines declares it is not enough.
Alice will beg for transformation every chance she gets,
but rather than rebel, she regrets.