Low spots fill 2
with molten ooze,
solidifying,
resisting,
as the softness erodes.
A rift forms 3
bounded by faults,
shifting,
ripping,
as scars deepen.
New life peaks through
the starkness---
thorns,
then flowers
in the gloaming.
Friday, May 14, 2021
Climate Change
This is the second poem composed while visiting Ghost Ranch, N.M., Bandelier National Monument, and the surrounding area.1
Mud daubers nest under the eaves of the canyon
where black volcanics hold up the rim.
White cotton and yellow squash grow beside green corn and beans
as the creek gurgles with abundant water.
More failed crops, brown and withered.
The dry wind puffs dust, howling,
submerging the stream's voice.
Our tribe must travel.
A cassock-covered alien with a cross antenna
leads metal-headed locusts
seeking gold and silver,
laying claim for a made-up god.
A new tribe of larval decomposers,
their whiteness encased in aluminum and glass,
visit our ruins
while creating their own.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)