Instructions For An Eclipse
Zoë Goodhead
Against the familiar swell of the seasons, resign yourself to something new
They created it in a lab to make you sit up and pay attention
It’s 1999 or 2081 or 2026 and we are all young, all old, all looking, wanting,
searching
Notice the bright, generous, performing truth of it all
Make it sacred by your noticing
Linger, take up the invitation to dwell
See all of London gathered in tight, bright spots between buildings
Tenderised and gazing, pulling the sky closer
Make the day unfamiliar
Let only half of the sun touch your wanting skin
Throw your eyeballs up into the sky and keep your feet on the ground
Open your face and your hands
Clasp onto the memory, knowing there is too much to carry
Take as much light as you can hold from this misshape, misstep, distorted
carnival mirror sun
See how something dead makes something alive more beautiful
Admire the sun for finding a way to be less and still be loved
See how the less creates more, more contours, more edges, a sharpness
After all of the giving of yourself, you worry you are not enough