NADIA LINES
First Prize - 2020 Tower Poetry Competition, 'Trees'
Woodland For Sale
I would work on a development
of fairy rings; loop after loop
of polka-dot, poodle-skirt
toadstools, rehoming the fairies
falling from heads in exam halls.
I’d reintroduce the wolf
to his old friends
and end the practice of pond dipping
in favour of pond diving.
The lakes I would decorate
with the eerie jewellery of frogspawn
and big breasted lily-pads;
the streams I would fill with miniature
belugas and all the tuna I regret eating.
I would seed a few forget-me-nots
next to a swing, which the centaurs
could look upon, but not sit on,
mourning being born, foreign
under their own firmament.
It would rain beetles, spit spiders,
drizzle deer, which would land, unphased,
antlers raised, spun with bone and grace,
trotting on. I’d have unknowable bird song.
I would plant daisies as deeply as tattoos.
I would make kingfishers less camera shy
and find the water voles and mice and
kiss each of their baby heads, one at a time.
I would sprout rabbits in holes
like spring- pricked bulbs, I would
melt dinosaur toys back
to dinosaur oil, give it proper burials.
I’d toil in my woodland
for hours, hoping that somehow
with love, and grubby thumbs,
I could salt the flowers with bees
and give back all the trees.