sapiens' first lover

Kaitlyn Wislang

wouldn’t it be easier to explain it
romantically, in terms of breathing
in sunflowers and exhaling pint-sized
rivers or something? pretty stories
are much better conversationalists 
than the truth. perhaps more people 
would be struck by the gravity of 
having unfounded energy to create 
and destroy if it were
gone.

the truth isn’t as beautiful as it is
striking. our chlorophyll-ridden 
world, with the grass we cut and 
the forests we lumber and the 
mangroves we complain about - 
these specimens grasp hold
of the sunlight in a way humans can 
only dream of monetizing.
plants embrace water and carbon
dioxide and deliver our favourite
small miracle on tap.
sugar and oxygen bloom like
weeds in the pavement.
our milk and honey. 
our evergreen lifeblood.

and then it is our turn. we consume
the sugar daringly and it drips from 
our lips. we gleefully inhale the 
oxygen to flow through our bloodstream.
our muscles expand and 
contract, and the leaves gracefully
accept the carbon dioxide we
farewell. this is the 
most intimate of relationships, really. 

but then we lose 
our way.
it’s easy to miss this
continuous magic of
the unseen.
and so in the unfathomable destruction
of the green all around, our breathing
slowly becomes
strained.
we seem to forget that our
every action stems from these
wildly remarkable
reactions.

The Science

This poem is a creative take on the simplified processes of photosynthesis and respiration. These processes are vital to human life and are a relationship to be treasured. Without photosynthesis and respiration, humans, and the energy they possess to go about their lives, would cease to exist.

The Poet

Kaitlyn Wislang is a poet who writes in the middle of the night when she's awake with her babies. She lives all the way at the bottom of the world in Wellington, New Zealand. When she's not furiously scribbling words in the Notes app on her phone, she enjoys finding pretty leaves, baking bread, and trying (yet miserably failing) to grow a vege garden.

Next poem: Sex Life of a Photon by Michael McCormick