the wax paper

Before a Brutalist Future

I want to be remembered in concrete through the microscopic ridges of my index

finger in the swirls of lost movement through hardening

flow

 

I want to be remembered in concrete where my little child digits plunged

into the slow-drying soup marked off with builders’ tape staked and

tied

 

I want to be remembered in concrete where my footsteps accidentally

met with the pavement in its slow restoration on a Soho kerb while you and I

combined

 

I want to be remembered in concrete like the Roman cat was in that roof tile

that the builder used anyways and now the school children marvel at

amazed

 

I want to be remembered in concrete because it lasts forever sometimes

and I need you to be able to find some trace of my life lived with you and lived

alone

 

I want to be remembered in concrete beside the little hand of our boy

pressed so carefully to show us how big he is and how deep he can press into liquid

stone

 

I want to be remembered in concrete like the audacious buildings of architects in

Rome who didn’t imagine that the gods would be dishonoured by the material of their

praise

 

I want to be remembered in concrete as a series of bas reliefs on Art Deco buildings

expressing a final moment of belief before a Brutalist future that will come after I’m

gone

 

I want to be remembered in concrete where the grooves slowly fill with ground leaves

fallen each year from the trees that we climbed together and where we knew only

love

 

Brook Pearson’s poems have been published in The GooseGalvanizing Resistance(Re)Purposed Magazine, and ArtAscent, with work forthcoming in Canadian Literature. He sometimes publishes parts of a Rhizomatic Book over at wordsasplateaus.wordpress.com.