The Real Thing
what’s the real thing
sitting inside
ticking away
waiting to explode
like a makeshift bomb.
clinging to something
that’s disappearing
slowly then fast and final.
hanging on by a hair
peering through the cracks
trying to stay upright
with each two feet
as they press
the shifting earth.
a billion hits
for a cat on a spoon
while the sun and moon
chase each other
around a spinning room.
what’s this mad dance
we’re all invited to.
words are magnifying glasses
that reveal patterns
in the grass
and flickers in your eyes
that suggest what could be.
we’re grasping at things
those things
that a person once said.
she said, there’s a sea in one seed.
he said, we don’t need no coffin,
just a fire.
she said, from destruction comes creation.
he said, even if you wash away the problem
the sauce remains on the pants.
the memory of the stain lives on.
but so do the pools of light
that exist underneath
underground tunnels
and at the edges of the sand.
they are everywhere to find.
Jola Jones is an Australian artist who has been working across different fields in the arts, from poetry and performance, to film and music. In Marrickville, Jones spent 4 years creating a platform for progressive and experimental arts and community. She has also been an ongoing performer and archivist with Kinetic Energy Theatre Company in Sydney. Her latest poems challenge us to consider the question, how do we respond in precarious times?