Unbuilt Sketch, Sumi Perera
Is there such a thing as progress?
You sketched an overture to twin towers
tensioned violin strings between them
a wind harp, our song
but made the ground fall away quickly
so no-one can help us
Are you a scientist or an artist?
I think you want me to know myself
know how to stop falling
and yet you are thinking
please don’t write in my book
Could I be depressed?
I am nourished by the burnt lines
the way their seared feathery edges
digest the air, oxyacetylene cutting
into smooth wafers of skin
until I am unbuilt.