Archival Music

Kathryn Gledhill-Tucker

we try to change the music

but no one listens to the dj

we try to dance out of step

but the rhythm holds

until the stamps turn into tremors

into fractures in the pavement

we see echoes of wetlands

bullrushes up to the waist

sea serpents on their commute

feel the cold wet like wading through memory

past is not a faraway thing

when we dance

we create resonance with Country

vibrations sink to aquifers

sing up truths

tall shadows sway in the night sky

water pools around the base of streetlamps

plane trees drown in riverbeds

jacaranda flowers bleed purple into the marsh

they thought they could bury us beneath reinforced concrete

and tall buildings

and floodlights

and bitumen

but the archive is a living thing