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 Goose, Galvanizing 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.