Day one and it's a long one! Most of my writing is hovering around one central theme at the moment. Since I have just made the leap to New Zealand with my partner I am naturally a little obsessed with displacement and this is emerging in my poetry. This first April offering is no different.
The End of the World as We Know it.
Meeting you felt like the beginning of an apocalypse movie, but the apocalypse never came. Maybe it got taped over or maybe we scared off the zombies or maybe we had a particularly subversive director who wasn't interested in the obvious, who wanted to see what happened when the happily ever after came first.
When you suggested we keep big bottles of water in our London flat, just in case, I laughed and ruffled your naive Kiwi hair. I had read the movie blurb on the back of the box. Knew we weren't expecting the apocalypse and even if the worst happened, the supermarket at the end of the street never let us down.
Before we left, when I was packing, I found several large bottles of water in the bottom of cupboards and smiled. You can take the island out of the boy... When we moved down under, I told my mum that it wasn't forever, that there is no such thing as happily ever after. That I would keep enough for a return ticket just in case.
I had been expecting zombies to look like they do in the movies. But they came disguised as long-haul flights and foreign currency and suddenly I saw the draw of being prepared for all eventualities. Maybe we were the ones to rewrite the cliche. Maybe our opening credits were more exciting than any action sequence
or maybe the apocalypse is now and all we can do is try to outrun the time zones that will try their very best to keep us apart. And stock up on cultural ammunition. Jandals are sandals. No more swimming costumes, just togs. And build ourselves a shelter on the seafront where we can escape to each other
and keep water in the bottom of cupboards for emergencies.