In continuing our mission to champion up-and-coming creatives, over the next four weeks, the junkee pov will be spotlighting authors featured in the Emerging Writers Festival (10-18 Sept).
she was a god
who wanted to change her name to “Daisy”
but couldn’t
she spoke it like a prayer each saturday morning
a girl with no control over anything
the name meant for her
she gave to me
she was too young to be so self-sacrificing
she chanted
“Daisy, Daisy, Daisy!”
into the microphone
her voice felt like a heartbeat
she paid for me with nothing
—her empty childhood time
so vast she could spend whole days for free
she tied two red bows
to each droopy ear
exactly what she thought “Daisy” should wear
she fed me
she washed me
she taught me to walk
she brought me a ball i could fetch
she made me feel something
so human
so warm
—something so human can feel so unnaturally warm
it coloured the room
made the walls breathe
it introduced the sun to heaven
her heaven sitting up against the pixelated screen
life sprouted like wallflowers in between the digital brick
dependence became just another trick
but i haven’t felt it for so long
i fill the imaginary time playing fetch with the ghost of what was
i try to look out the window
it’s just an empty backdrop
i wait by the front door
but god never left through it
—it sounds like there’s nothing behind it—
i hope she is safe
Daisy, Daisy, Daisy
she can have her name back
i’ll hold it in my mouth & lay it at her feet
if it’ll bring her back to me
i’m never hungry when she’s gone
nor bored
nor thirsty
i only want for human things
when she is around to give them to me
i wish the clock told the time
the real time
the only time that matters
the time inside here is fake
an empty shell of code
without the warm delusion
that breathes “Daisy” into me every morning
it’s too bright in here
bright in its eternity
i don’t remember what a toy is without being used
was i really going anywhere on our walks
with my leash attached to her disembodied hand?
was that somewhere out in the place they call the real world?
i want to go back there
i want to stretch my legs
i want to run without having to stop.
i found her real home
her scent lives here
lost among the pine trees that smell like nothing
the small house where her presence seems strongest
is empty & dark
coded furniture crawls up the walls instead of that human warmth
blocking off doorways hiding more backdrop black holes
there are fish & bugs sitting in their own glass houses
dreaming of her
animals are her neighbours
they call for “Daisy” without moving their mouths
she used to plant flowers here
she used to have coffee in the cafe
& request songs with strange names
she used to come bearing gifts for their birthdays
she used to send them poetry in letters
she used to dream up constellations
for them to gaze up at in wonder
but now the sky is pitch black
they tell me she hasn’t been around for twenty years
is that a long time?
is that real time?
an echoey bell churns out the same tune
it sounds like it’s coming from above the fake clouds
it sounds so often it hurts my ears
the strange stagnant creatures with frozen expressions
are waiting
they won’t call me “Daisy”
that’s her name
that’s the name that begins each of their prayers
she couldn’t be Daisy in my world
but she could be here
i was selfish
she can be Daisy instead
i can be blank
Daisy, Daisy, Daisy!
i’m lost
come find me again
remind me how to be hungry
how to play
how to walk
how to crave warm water & soap
like salvation coating me head to paw
it’s too dark here
it’s too cold
in these empty worlds far too small
for a child’s head.
this has to be real
there are creatures here that look just like her
a family
sitting in the dark of an unfinished dollhouse
coded suburbia in the middle of a rapture
where death doesn’t mean the end of everything
& ghosts of what was
are real
waiting for her to tell them what to do
they speak but i can’t make out the words
i think they miss the warmth too
the dirty dishes crawl up the walls
& they forgot how to sleep on their own
there’s no one around to put out the fire
the families she invented live in separate homes
blocked off by doors that can’t be answered
a swimming pool sinks into the earth
a doorway is missing from a bedroom
there aren’t enough windows
a girl with my name wears red bows
Daisy, Daisy, Daisy
i just want to find my way back to her sense of home
child-god stuck on a missing poster
stolen from heaven.
an imposter visited me today
she had stolen her godhood
—that’s someone else’s voice
telling me to sit down
lie down
beg,
beg,
beg?
i offered her my name
but she didn’t like the way “Daisy” sounded anymore
she said i can keep it
i’m hungry even when she feeds me
thirsty even when she pours water in my bowl
i once prayed to her without a voice
no one listening
Daisy, Daisy, Daisy
come back to me
god is time
giving her back
with the largest part still missing
she’s not 29
she’s only 11
she created homes to abandon
—abandoned homes can only house memories
the walls spoon-feed them a mutated version
of the warmth emanating from that lost human feeling
keeping them on life-support
projecting dusty vhs saturday mornings on faded walls
& little Daisy
11 years old
is now an unreachable deity
for both the imposter & me
& the imposter is an uncanny god
now worshipping her shrine through a screen
who still can’t forget
the child still remembered
by the places & things called nowhere.
Danii Jasmine is a poet and writer who explores the depths of the human condition through the lens of surreal nostalgia, dark humour, and confessional fragments that make the familiar feel alien.
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