Some blue waves already blacken the oceans.
The butterfly on its own wing.
The family wolves,
With their contributions to a complicated labor.
Naked ominous spaces,
They too are bitten by bad nature.
Waterloo’s smoke of its old war.
Carcasses of great trees to sweeten New York’s woods.
The private grounds litter women who believe,
They are pigeons and mothers to cattle.
Silver fog hauling the lake,
The way sun ruins melanin and,
Dust dulls skies.
Rooted, Earth Mother, kept its fire.

 

 

 

 

Inspired by Sylvia Plath