Steps

Steps

Overnight, garden steps become puddles – slivers 
 of melted ice trying to return to lake or sea.

 Imagine Raleigh spreading his cloak, this fabric
 flowing over, maybe soaking up a little water-spill. 

 Only this rainfall is just the start of our future. 
 The overcast sky caught in smeared windows 

 is the pale grey turning to black of car-exhausts
 and factory burn-offs poured from chemical chimneys.

 Every step taken now is standing on history.
 Every step’s slipping on sunlight, cloud or ice

 reshaped by breaking weight. Wait a few years,
 then start walking and waking underwater,

 as oceans of puddled sky and lake
 recast the earth’s thin surface, submerging.

 Watch the smelting of fins, the bending of arms         
 and thigh bones to desperate wings, as we try

 to become fish or birds, swimming or flying, 
 with the dolphins, or the dodos. 

Sarah James/Leavesley

Sarah James/Leavesley is an award-winning poet, fiction writer, journalist and photographer, with poetry featured in the Guardian, Financial Times, The Forward Book of Poetry 2016, on the BBC, regional buses and in the Blackpool Illuminations. Author of seven poetry titles, two novellas and a touring poetry-play, she runs V. Press poetry and flash fiction imprint.

Website: www.sarah-james.co.uk.