Sloth Poem by Sheena Blackhall

I think I am one of life’s watchers
A sloth, slung between two trees
Looking up at the moon
My two eyes fill with moon
I think the moon fell into me and drowned
I think I could be the moon

I am a human hammock.
Toe-hold on English, finger-grip on Scots
My words drift down like leaves

I am disconnected from the scrabbling
Creatures below, their drive, their naked ambition
Caught in the whirling maelstrom of making their mark

One night I’ll become the moisture
Wetting the clouds of a day

Someone will have to dispose
Of my fur and eyes,
Tipping the moon back out for the grass to drink