Sun Cream In February

You finish writing a book but you don't send it off right away. You sit reading it, imagining being the poet you hope will read it one day.

You erase a comma. Then put it back.

And then erase it again. You keep wondering — why did you spend this winter writing a book? Because one day we all might burn books for heat. One day we might use books to build rafts. We'll tether books together to sail to safety.

I think maybe the world will end with dead unread books.

You snap your laptop shut. You go downstairs and switch on the TV. The news is on. There are images of empty supermarket shelves. The newsreader is talking about stockpiling food and medicine. They cut to footage of a couple stockpiling tins. The couple stands side by side and they smile into the camera by a wall of baked beans. They grin down the lens and tell us all at home that they are ready.

I'm ready. The man repeats. We want to be ready. His wife nods. We want to be ready. They say this in unison as they fill plastic storage boxes with tins of baked beans. I think the beans situation is covered now thanks to John and Elaine in Maidstone.

At the end of the world, will baked beans be like heroin? You now imagine swapping a book for a tin of baked beans and wonder, which book would you sacrifice for a tin of beans? You picture yourself scoring a cheeky hit of beans on toast by a public toilet. Hey man, got any dirty brown sauce?

You switch off the TV and go into the kitchen to make tea. You stare out of the window at the pink and the sky and the light. It is summer but it is February. But it is summer and it is February. And too bright and too warm and too weird and too sunny. It is alarming that they don't mention this heat on the news. We need sun cream in February. Sun cream in February. And my neighbour is having a barbecue in February. And the last super tusker elephant died this February. And it is summer and it is February and it is summer and it is February.

What was the point of writing a book all winter? What is the point of us? When our time is so fractured. Divided. Distracted. Interrupted. Our attention is demanded and demanding attention. Our world is burning, flooding and changed.

But then if not for love, then why are we all here?

And what is your soul for? If not for books, for poetry, for music, for art, for sharing, for dreaming? Why are we all here? If not for your big glad heart, your joy, for faith and belief and for love love love. If not for your humanity and connection? What else is there? And what are we all getting out of bed for? And what are your eyes for? And what are you looking at? And what do you want? And what is the point of breath if not to sing for freedom and survival and light and colour and joy and you - yes, you — what do you march for? And why are you angry? And what are you all fighting about? If not for your planet? If not for the animals? If not for the rainforest and if not for the ocean? If not for the elephants? The last elephants ...

And if not for all you love, then what was it all for?

Was it really just about baked beans?

Text: ‘Sun Cream In February’ is published in With Love, Grief and Fury by Salena Godden and available now published by Canongate Books. Support Bookshops and indie publishing - https://uk.bookshop.org/shop/salenagodden

Video: UK poet, author and activist Salena Godden performs 'Suncream in February' at Out-Spoken, Purcell Room, Southbank Centre, London. September 2019. This powerful new work-in-progress touches on the uncertainty of Brexit, the climate crisis and food shortages. It was broadcast on National Poetry Day October 2019 on BBC Radio 4. You may find this performance on the BBC iPlayer. Out-Spoken books and events: outspokenldn.com

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