Illustration by Chris Riddell for The Observer
From where I’m writing this,
a man named Sidny Lopes Cabral
curled an absolute act of physics
into the top corner. You know how
supermassive blackholes distend
the fabric of space-time? Well,
he bulged the net like that. A shot
so true it opened up
a new timeline,
one in which the volcano archipelago
of Cabo Verde are now world champions,
led to the podium by their ageing keeper,
Vozinha – little granny in Portuguese –
a name reclaimed from a childhood teased
for always running home to her. Listen
to how they chant it. Vo-zin-ha,
the tidal rush and crash enough
to summon
his grandmother’s ghost,
she who then takes full possession
of the American President’s mind
and body which convulses for a moment
then suddenly clear-eyed and speaking
Portuguese reaches out to cradle
the head of her boy, both of them weeping
as they are lifted high by the crowd
in such a way
as to precisely recall
the Fogo volcano that – what, four
and a half million years ago now? –
rose blazing from the waves.
Joe Dunthorne is a novelist and poet. His prize-winning memoir Children of Radium is out now in paperback
Illustration by Chris Riddell