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

we’ll win.

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,

begin!