every evening, the clock sings lucid songs of grass.
of unknown fields in distant green. heart pumping
in circadian. then the pasture swallows in whole;
grass becomes bed of thorns and lullaby becomes gutted
fragment of sheet music; deafening silence ascending
in clockwork notation. paramnesia in three-four time
my dad gave me the wisdom of counting sheep
to count valley sheep & barn house sheep & to count
in beat with celestial bodies. to be enamoured
with sheep & sheep & sheep
but the difference between dad and I
is that he grew up somewhere around orchards
where the sheep were abundant enough
to properly dampen night terrors
but I grew up with digital sheep
and wear digital wool; polyester-based;
no flocks for me to count at night.
this is a eulogy for the pastures.
a war cry for the digital age.
to sleep now is to sleep between screams
of cellphone ringtones, huddled in a comforter
spun out of plastic
Rena Su is a writer from Vancouver, Canada, and the author of the chapbook Preparing Dinosaurs for Mass Extinction (ZED Press, Jun 2021). Her work whose work has been recognized by Simon Fraser University, the City of Surrey, and the Pulitzer Center. You can find her on Twitter @RenaSuWrites
Rena Su is a writer from Vancouver, Canada, and the author of the chapbook Preparing Dinosaurs for Mass Extinction (ZED Press, Jun 2021). Her work has been recognized by Simon Fraser University, the City of Surrey, and the Pulitzer Center. You can find her on Twitter @RenaSuWrites