Wormhole

This is how time works	we see		everything at once		we don’t
 separate moments			my mother walks the driveway		singing
 in her latter years		with		laundry basket
  & at the same time			I am being born			& she takes photos
   at my graduation		& my second graduation		& at the same time	
    she is standing on a tennis court		in high school uniform	& somewhere still
     she doesn’t exist		& neither do 	I	the fabric of time		folds over	& 
      tears	open	& there		is a tidal wave rising here		soon			‘
       we can feel it 		I photograph	climate strike picket signs		& at the same time
        photographs are still being	invented		white lace		on pieces of card
         & at the same time		my body decomposes underground
          worms crawl		through my eyes			like I am a castle
           If we travel 	through	time	like space	we won’t like		what we find
            but we can hypothesise things		anyway		until the cows	come	
             This is how time works		we go back		& back		& back
              my tūpuna	stand		on the shore	welcoming		& get shot for it
                I see		 blood spots	on the sand		& at the same time		
                 the ship never comes			we thrive
                   & at the same time 	we fight		our cousins	anyway	over kaimoana
	       If we travel back far enough
                      there’ll be things
                        we don’t want to see			time frays 	tattered		at the edges
                          & I want all of it		at once	enveloping me
                            I hunger		to know what has happened		& what might 
                              & 	what will		to find a	wormhole		in the atmosphere
                                force open		& explore it
                                  even if it hurts		
                                    This is how time works		we create formulas		& escape
               	            into fantasy
               	              my mokopuna wear	solar powered shoes
		                that let them fly		& at the same time	I never had children
			     me & she	 sit			silent	in a doctor’s office
	                                  & at the same time			my dad is a young man	cycling
		                      the north island		& then			that island’s
			            being fished	from the sea
		                           sweat on Maui’s forearms	the sun beating	& being beaten
		                all of these moments			weaving into the fabric of me
the tarmac		rumble	s	underneath us
		                  	 		time always tears apart, she says
			        when planes lift 			into 		the sky
		& I am so scared of the world		just		ending
                       sometimes
                         I feel like
	             I could	
				              dis			ha
                                                                    ap					ha
                                                                     pe
                                                                      a		ha		ha			
                                                                     r
					 but
				            then again
				          we’re all	 still		here
				        I carve my name
			                   on the arm of an		airplane seat
	                                           &		we shoot through space		me & she
                                                     with hands clasped		tight
                                                   we’re at the beginning of a journey		& the middle
                                                 & the end                   
                                 but in this moment		we’re 
                              just talking		time weaves		around us
                          in our pocket of sky	
                       & if I could have anything	in all of the parallel universes
                     it would be this

Sinead Overbye (Ngāti Porou, Te Aitanga-a-Māhaki, Rongowhakaata) is a poet and fiction writer living in Wellington. In 2018 she completed her MA in creative writing at the IIML. She founded and co-edits Stasis Journal. Her work can be found in The Pantograph Punch, Tupuranga Journal, Turbine | Kapohau, Starling, and other places.

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