Grant Shimmin

The stamp of history

Christchurch, New Zealand

Crouched in the walled canyon they watch
Red bucket hats perched protectively against
a sun that rarely finds this downtown enclave
Eyes on a teacher pointing to the giant mural’s
futuristic faces, focused on the car park’s
rough surface, a concrete rectangle awaiting
a developer’s deep pockets
His words go unheard on the sixth floor
of the adjacent office block, but even
from here it’s clear these kids came well
after the pained earth shook street art
into so many spaces it emptied out

They’re growing more skilled now at spotting
the quake prints stamped on their city
Some bellow their presence, rubbled grey
blocks among the slabbed stacks
of climbing concrete, glass and timber
Others have learned to hide – acres of
riverside grass covers lines left
by fences and walls long departed
Though at right angles to river trails
lie narrow roads strewn with ruin, new life
swelling cracks in solid suburban certainty

On a gentle corner, derelict apartments
eye the nearby river blindly from behind
mesh that holds back the updating of
graffiti tattoos. They’ve stood silent
so long now they’re easily missed
in the rush of a new cycle way, skirting
the river, across the quiet road.
Impromptu monuments, dead space circled by life,
waiting for someone to find the funds
to pull them down; mute reminders
of the danger of taking permanence for granted

.

Grant Shimmin lives in Christchurch, New Zealand, a city recovering from major earthquakes in 2010 and 2011, having grown up in South Africa. An editor for Does it Have Pockets?, he has work in journals including Roi Faineant Press, Remington Review, Bull, Epistemic Literary, and Querencia Press.

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