Everything That Can Happen

Poems about the Future

Suzannah Evans, Tom Sastry, Suzannah Evans, Tom Sastry

• Publisher: The Emma Press
• Year: 2019
• Print ISBN: 9781910139523
• eBook ISBN: 9781912915163
• Topic: Literature
• Subtopic: Poetry
• Index: Literature

Everything That Can Happen contains many kinds of future: an android fills out a passport form; the local cricket pitch is lost underwater; frozen limbs thaw from cryogenic sleep; robotic shoes allow for highspeed parenting.

The poems in this anthology explore time, language, changing landscapes, future selves, uncertainty, catastrophe and civilisation. Whether imagining a distant, apocalyptic future or the moment we live in, nudged slightly beyond what we know, the poems ask what we can do to prepare ourselves for a future that edges a little closer every day.

JUST AROUND THE CORNER

The future these poems imagines feels very close, perhaps a little too close at times. The floods are lasting longer, the storms are surging and those we love are talking about the world they might be leaving behind. These things are no less terrifying because we recognise them.

And what can we do to prepare ourselves, for this future that gets a little closer every day? Do we stockpile, adapt new technologies, or resign ourselves to this weird new world, one which looks a lot like the one we’re living in?

CRAIG BARKER

Daughter

* * *

Will you inherit my language,

speak quiet and quick, trip

over words like paving stones

with our large feet and fast apologies?

I would rather you speak less shy,

and only write poems about your children

once they exist. Your aunt just got engaged

to a nice German man and your father

shall have a niece – “double happiness,”

and I am writing a poem and fearing

the future. Will you fear it the same way?

Will you find that some things are easier to say

in a tongue that is not your own? I will wait.

ANITA PATI

An unborn child wonders if it’s worth it

They say the seas catfight by night,

that rabbling gales scorch huddled girls?

Well, toffee, Haiti howls, that’s right.

Lizards and ladies stoned in deserts,

rows of heads popped by rocks in red little shocks?

Oh, poppet, the tongue that cocks will cop it.

And grannies and mice are vial mummies in cold countries,

mummies in others suck gun through their gums?

The choice, Lucy Locket, is yours to grace this earth.

Liver, cornea, lymph rotted from rust in water,

babies burping the expiration of suicide daddies?

Every little helps through WaterAid monthly, kiddo.

But the tremor of stars stirs furious lovers together?

Yes. Points and counterpoints horrify me.

And the migratory Brahminy kites swoon at Lake Chilika?

Pumpkin, most folk are wanting to flee.

Maybe I’ll whistle to see who picks up my tune?

Weigh it up, petal, maybe we’ll see you soon.

ROBERT HAMBERGER

Gaza

We sat on the prom staring out to sea

when I read you a sonnet about Gaza.

We stayed quiet half a minute, until

you said I fear I’ll never live to see

the end of that. You may – but I think

it’ll drag on for ages. I understood

you were giving me permission for years

without you, making me fill a little life

after you’ve gone, hanging on

for Gaza to be solved, waiting

for no more boys to be killed

playing football on the sand.

We fell silent again, wanting Gaza

glorious and you here to see it. You. Here.

SHRUTI CHAUHAN

Worlds

again and again people ask

me about the words that

make up my language and I

always say they are not words

they are worlds

the Gujarati word for country carries

a world within and when my grandfather places

his wrinkled hand atop my head tells me

he is returning to his desh for the winter

a world unfurls

a world of love and longing

of piggybacks across the ocean

of TB-stricken loneliness pay packets

and passports a world in

search of a better world

at the temple I hear

Om shantih shantih shantih

tucked into this plea for peace

there are tides energy

galaxies and eternity

Shantih peace for I

Shantih peace for us

Shantih peace for the universe

recalling my sister’s wedding day

I tear up at vidai

what’s that? I’m asked and I

refuse to reduce the word to

‘the final stage of a Hindu weddin...

Table of contents

• COVER
• COPYRIGHT
• TITLE PAGE
• EDITORS’ FOREWORD
• CONTENTS
• SECTION ONE: THE FUTURE IS JUST A POINT IN TIME
• SECTION TWO: JUST AROUND THE CORNER
• SECTION THREE: A DIFFERENT KIND OF LIFE
• SECTION FOUR: AT THE END OF THINGS
• ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
• ABOUT THE EDITORS
• ABOUT THE EMMA PRESS
• ALSO FROM THE EMMA PRESS