Fortress
they should invent a kind of fish that loves the hook
or a human that craves to be forgotten.
they should invent a day of the week to wander the earth alone
wishing it was any other wednesday.
they should invent a trucker cap that alludes to next week’s bad decisions.
they should invent a propeller hat that comes in black for mourning.
they should let me have a go on the merry-go-round controls.
they should invent a risk that comes with attendant rewards.
they should invent dreams that transcribe themselves.
they should replace artificial intelligence with a somnambulant on a treadmill.
they should invent a little imp who scolds you for your self-deprecation.
they should invent an imp who gorges on your love.
they should invent a telephone that electrocutes you.
a smartphone that poisons your friends’ spirits.
they should invent a dress that announces: “look, it has billiard pockets!”
if they invent a sport for the recently bereft, we could play pool with these black-clad women.
they should invent a soccer ball that has its own desires,
its own goals. a batting cage that yelps in pain.
they should convert all the multilevel parking lots into cemeteries.
they should invent a zombie movie where the danger is an overnight fine.
they should demolish all houses that “diminish the surrounding area”.
they should rebuild these houses in a beautiful field.
they should invent a poem about life
and hide it at the centre of a heavily secured fortress.
Alexander Bennetts is a writer and music-maker in Melbourne, Australia. His work has been published in Meanjin, Westerly, Going Down Swinging, and elsewhere.
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