blah opus

blah moon smoulders as I careen        like a pulsar towards hot blah
summer           I am failing       flailing       feeling    in a thalassic blah       in a time
where I can’t hear the constant hum of the earth above the hum of mass air
conditioning      originally invented to help ink dry & stop pages warping       it
now entombs us in productivity      delusion lives in the phrase climate
I think of sweat as a type of release    a friend texts me      did u know
we work almost twice as much as medieval peasants? fml                    
why am I
always too cold in every office job I have ever had          my co-worker says it’s
because offices are always set to the               perfect temperature for a man
wearing a business suit          corporate ambient     &      this year the world cup
is happening in a country        where it is so hot & humid    you can die from your
own body heat            a country where nepali labourer surendra tamang tells
time magazine    I used to have dreams  as he lies on a hospital bed    his kidneys
eviscerated by heat & work    at the age of 31       a country where over 6500
migrant workers have died      to build eight air-conditioned stadiums      real
hunger games shit      this is how you shed blood        without spilling a
single drop       on tv a single perfect cgi tear crawls down kim k’s perfect
face       remember when she said it seems like nobody wants to work these
& this year over 800 ‘australian’ companies   paid no tax    making it
extremely sexy to       pay tax            there’s a soft dent in my pillow                 from
screaming into it              orgasm cult girlboss who forced her staff to watch
videos of lions ripping zebras apart        workers are like predators      only the
apex never go hungry         when I say burn you
sayout       burnout       burnOUT    BURNOUT        this word like a wet bandaid
peeling off a shark bite          some types of seabirds survive typhoons by flying
into them         but some never come out      the thing is            we are all
a community of air
            one shouldn’t differentiate between        all that
I am watching this documentary about two brothers in delhi        who
rescue black kites               carnivorous birds that are falling out of the
sky   choking on smog & cut up by kite strings coated in crushed
glass                         with their teenage bodybuilder histories         & intimate
knowledge of muscle                        the brothers suture wings & reconnect
tendons in their family’s soap dispenser factory         there’s something about
tending to the skies                   one piece at a time                          as it falls apart
& sometimes       I can’t believe how lonely life can be        in a world                where
mycorrhizal networks exist       an entanglement of trees feeding each other
through delicate mycelium threads                         the forest’s own fungi internet
but here I am                          newly birthed                                         angel of blah

Panda Wong

Panda is a poet working on unceded land in Naarm/so-called Melbourne. She is an Associate Editor at The Suburban Review and is a 2020 Wheeler Centre Hot Desk fellow.

More by Panda Wong ›

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