The bees are faked.
A virtual buzz instills the air with an air of virtuosity.
It doesn’t get more real than this.
The flora’s just as duped.
Shades of neon downtown pink.
Sprays of manufactured lady’s slippers, lupines, hair perfume.
The din of pink.
Glazed to wash away the gritty bits that stick.
The birds are faked; the ferns are fake.
And other words for song.
Here, where the animal in the belly learns to growl.
Where the benches are Eco-friendly recycled imitation polymers,
neo-outdoor revivalist by decree.
Where players known as patrons sit.
Some words imitate each other.
The trees in harmony harmonize with artificial casts of lighting
filtered through scrubbed acrylic planes of faux transparence in long
unbreakable chains of molecules.
Non-reactive plastic claws, knives and forks.
Prosthetic limbs poised on mannequins dressed in subterranean gear.
Headlines on the screens materialize unrealized.
Neutralized to emulate a woodlot in a concrete meadow.
Where I’m in line for bottled water.
Where the creek is dead.
Antony Di Nardo is the author of three books of poetry: Alien, Correspondent (Brick Books), Soul on Standby (Exile Editions), and Roaming Charges (Brick Books). A fourth collection, Keep Frozen, is forthcoming from Ronsdale Press in 2018, and will include “May June July,” a suite of poems which won the Gwendolyn MacEwen Poetry Prize for 2017. His work has been translated into French and Italian and can be found in journals across Canada and internationally. He divides his time between Cobourg, Ontario and Sutton, Quebec.
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