Instructions for Performing CPR on Those Already Dead

like kissing a dead fish.
purple lips.                               drop your ego

offer already-breathed
air, scavenged from the shore – coast.
like an [endangered form of] mother – bird;
offer pink mush
of worms pre-chewed.
press it between their stiff lips.

pour yourself uninvited        into the smooth
ocean expanse of their chest
agitate it like
molecules gently colliding
                and rapidly expanding
to the beat
of  pamp – pamp – pamp – pamp
                stayin’ alive,
           stayin’ alive.

bread dough-pale and bloated
rub rocks and half-arsed arguments
to produce a burnt-hair-static  ZAP!       
                                   like that scene in the croods

they jolt upright –hair slightly fried–  like a resuscitated
seabed mining bill–

good. we’re back in business. now
with the touch of un-/earth upon them–
the fish-eye of tīpuna,
or kaos-or-god still

horizon-wide and unblinking–
ask them the important questions:

at which point in time would you place the divide
between holocene and
anthropocene  ?

how would you rate my singularity as an environmental
poet, against all others  ?

in which form of future,
or non-life-or-void,     do we
consider      this an issue
yet ?

Molly Laurence

Molly Laurence is a rangatahi poet from rural Canterbury, studying first year law and sociology at Te Herenga Waka Victoria University. In 2023 she was a National Schools Poetry Award finalist and in 2024 her debut poetry chapbook, Parallel Lines, was released with Ngā Pukapuka Pekapeka Press. She likes nature, advocacy, and funky earrings.