WE CAN’T USE THIS ROOM BECAUSE OF THE SEAGULL

Jack Emsden


& by seagull I mean a seagull hanging dead from the bay window

& by room I mean a community centre in Croydon

& by seagull I mean scarce & dwindling resources

& by room I mean the side streets of long-promised renewal

by scarcity I mean abandoned luxury developments

by renewal I mean anarchist gardening initiatives

by developments I mean multiple co-morbidities

by gardening I mean a good death

by comorbidities I mean the Big Bad feeling

by good I mean my stomach, or I mean my heart

by Big Bad I mean off milk power-hosed over a landing strip

by heart I mean my small wheels tucked away ready for flight

by off-milk I mean my continued failure to quit smoking

by flight I mean my breathing steady at the edge of the hill

by failure I mean a new variant of cowardice

by breathing I mean radical empathy

by cowardice I mean this public square flooded with the corpses of anglerfish

by empathy I mean t-shirt guns of good intentions fired into the crowd

by corpses I mean this cargo truck full of wasps

by good intentions I mean my eyes off the road

I mean I can’t stop loving you or believing in the enduring kindness of others

I mean my heart, or I mean my stomach

I mean I’m naked as bone, shovelling myself with soil

I mean this low-lying terrain, connection of two points, this archway, this viaduct

Jack Emsden was shortlisted for the Wolverhampton Literature Festival competition 2021, and awarded 2nd place prize in the Verve Poetry Press competition 2019. Their work has appeared in Ink, Sweat and Tears, Lucent Dreaming, Porridge, SPAM, and Butcher’s Dog. They run and host Resonance, a monthly open mic night in Deptford, South East London. You can find them on Instagram @resonance.poetry.