Poems

Matthew Goldrick: ‘What’s that?’

What’s that?

Climate changes everything.
Is that what they’re saying?
I remember when hot winds blew
trips to the local pool
and orange flares on the horizon
singled summer, not panic.
There were no water restrictions,
you drew what was needed.
We all got fed.
We walked slim;
we cycled effortlessly, in trousers.
The corner store didn’t overcharge.
And the chemist knew our names,
dispensing Compazine or Kodak;
depending on the season.
We could tell the strange ones at church,
yet attended the odd working bee.
Birthday candles burned slower
And sponges always rose.

Matthew Goldrick

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