in the event of an apocalypse, smash me

by aoife mannix

If all the stars fell out of the sky,
teeth knocked out in a boxer's ring,
and the referee lost count,
I'd sew them back one by one,
so you could find your way along a ribbon of dark,
cat's eyes on a country road,
the windscreen wipers beating their own rhythm,
and the rain filling up your eyes.
I'd drink every drop, sing whole oceans,
and every note a whistling kettle.
I'd brew a storm for you
to set sail in your tea cup.
Stretch my skin across puddles,
and carry you between my teeth,
a sugar cube more precious than emeralds.
I'd dress you in green and take you shopping,
ask and it's yours.
If all the mountains walked away,
impatient peanut crunchers in a queue,
I'd hunt them down
and trail their pebbles through your heart,
a breadcrumb highway guarded by birds,
and the forests would know your name.
I'd whisper it from rooftops
till the telephone lines hummed with excitement,
and the hours turned to sand.
If the whole world stopped turning,
I'd still find you a penny for luck,
and get off at the same stop as you.
Feed you on sunsets and red wine,
take you sky diving,
wrap up your birthdays with whole galaxies.
Keep you safe and warm and happy.

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copyright © 2003, aoife mannix