spiralling during Planet Earth

Attenborough’s voice echoes in my head (like God) He says that we need to act now (draws
us all in with baby orangutans and birds that look like aliens.) Because otherwise, no one
cares. Does he know that? Current levels of global warming will push over 120 million
people into poverty by 2030. An army of ants infests a rainforest like disease, a baby gazelle
leaks ruby red on the dusty savannah, a lioness licks her lips, prime time TV. Britain sits
down on its mass produced Landskrona sofa, the fabric smells like Ikea. (Single use plastic,
suspiciously cheap candles.) It dips its beige biscuits into its beige tea and watches
indifferently as the horrible impacts of human existence unfold onscreen, in ultra-impressive
HD. They say the cure for cancer could lie in the rainforest, I wonder if the cure for anxiety
hides there too? Cowering under a massive banana leaf, sheltering itself from torrential rain.
Nobody cares, and even if they say they care, they care because they can post their re-useable
Starbucks cup on Instagram. Or tell their friends that a bar of expensive soap can wash our
hair, wash our bodies, wash our fur coats, (maybe our conscience?) An orchestra builds, the
camera zooms in, blue sphere of earth, brown wasteland, eventually emerald green rainforest.
David Attenborough standing in a clearing, frantically waving a sign painted with big red
letters, ‘THE END.’ A bird flaps its wings and flees, the screen fades to black. I think it’s
Panorama next.


Maddy Kinkead (she/her) is a Belfast based poet and writer. She is currently studying an MA in Poetry at the Seamus Heaney Centre at Queen’s University Belfast. Her work has been published in The Jumble, a Belfast based arts magazine and she writes topical pieces for The Tab Belfast, a student newspaper. maddyk24098538.myportfolio.com/