Let's Get the Scissors
Let’s get the scissors, said Marie,
and cut out shapes that can never be.
We’ll build kites that hate to fly
and undo clouds in the confetti sky.
Let’s dare cirrus and tease the storm,
make it wish it was never born.
Let’s tell Sven his shadow knows
the places where he dares not go.
Let’s rip up maps and plough the graves
of martyrs who could never save
the souls of sinners in the soil
who lie below and make crops spoil.
Let’s get rusty, twisted shears
and cut off monsters’ horns and ears;
they’ve coloured in our lives so grim,
we’ll teach them in the end
Let’s rollercoast the dales and hills
and make the lochs and rivers ill,
by spilling seasick hopes and fears
we hid in them for years and years.
Let’s make angels mine the deep
and laugh when they’re grubby
and start to weep.
Let’s swap saints
for ne’er do wells
and dynamite the gates of hell.
Let’s stitch visions in the trees
to enlighten all the birds and bees.
Let’s sew rumours in the wind
and when they think it ends,