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.

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