Copyright 2007 Jennie Gilling. All Rights Reserved
Elephants knew
long before the twitch
of sensitive instruments,
when the line stopped being straight.
Grey, leathery skin
felt the earth's morse code.
Did nobody notice
the birds had gone?
In uneasy comfort,
the screen presents the horror:
a jade wall rearing,
drawing up fathoms to reach in,
further in.
Blacker with each rising,
spiked with limbs,
the unthinkable reshaping of paradise.
How long before
the nets no longer haul
their grim catch?
Will the new island,
ruptured into being,
have a Caliban?
Virgin sand,
the footprints of lost children?