Poem of the Week: As Time Capsules Sleepwalk Through Catastrophe

A new work by Paul Casey

Paul Casey
Paul Casey
My great-great-great grandparents eked out lives, delicate
as leaf smoke when the first steam locomotive
lugged its heavy load of carbon
little did they know

When my great-great grandparents nestled their babies
tight on the sunlit side of famine, Foucault devised
the gyroscope now found in missiles and drones
little did they know

My great-grandparents who tasted sweet righteous revolution
walked miles as the first motorcars & aeroplanes combusted
vapourised their cheap diets of gasoline
little did they know

I am blessed to have known and loved four grandparents, they,
my parents, great-grandmother and I could all make out
the stars when first footfall was made on the moon
little did we know

And you future hearts, will you take the closest of care
of whatever it is we have left you?
So much you must know
so little

Paul Casey’s poems have most recently appeared in Days of Clear Light (Salmon Poetry) and Local Wonders (Dedalus). His second collection Virtual Tides was published by Salmon in 2016. It followed home more or less (Salmon, 2012) and It’s Not All Bad (Heaventree, 2009). He promotes poetry in his role as director of Ó Bhéal, Cork.