TKW Excerpt #2: Sincerely, Deirdre

This is the eleventh and penultimate poem of The Killing Wage, and the second of three I am previewing before next Tuesday’s release. Although most of the anthology follows an overarching narrative, this one was a black sheep of sorts, and naturally, one of my favourites. It was nearly cut, but I am glad I decided to keep it in.


Dear descendants,
should any still exist,

My name is Deirdre and I’m sixteen, born to the end of a world too beautiful, calm and serene.

And my dear
descendant, you would never
believe if
I told you of fields where other children
run carelessly;

if I told you that sadness and struggle and pain was dealt in equilibrium, that the collapsed ecosystem in which you comprise the bottom
never made all men equal
but afforded most of them

Oh descendants,
should you ever read this and be able
to deconstruct its sentences then know
this is
my penance,
should I fail in my
quest to prevent
your debts,

give you something more
than math can grant you.

I hope the future gets to
dance with you, even in
baby steps.



No reverence necessary.
I’m too young to be a God yet!


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