Research piles into my ribs like stacked books,
stories that tell me there is little time.
The frogs need my attention,
calling into the night.
The salamanders peek out,
we need you to tell them, they say.
We need you to be brave.
But I don’t feel brave.
I dream of a day we call it all off.
The newspapers read,
“THEY HAD IT ALL WRONG!”
I’ll announce our mistakes
before an angry crowd
with a smile from ear to ear.
The scientists were lying I’ll say.
Fanatics
Maniacs
It was a political scheme,
a conspiracy-
a memo I’ve yet to receive.
I’ve shaken during exams,
in real pain
showing how perfectly I know
how the earth is suffering.
Graded on my understanding
of a nightmare.
Nausea finding my lips
Screaming for an out
A miscalculation
Some fundamental misunderstanding
Some control alt delete
When you argue with me
what you don’t see is
I hope that you’re right.
I hope that you’re right.
I hope that you’re right,
And the species aren’t dying.
The seas, they’re not rising,
The ice is not melting.
Our beloved animals not choking
in our own
convenient
waste.
I hope that you’re right
And it’s not worth it.
It’s not worth it.
It’s not worth it.
The God of Money will save us.
I hope that you’re right,
so your grandchildren don’t have to wonder
why you screamed
so sure, so sure.
Why you didn’t listen
to the very people
your creator’s hands formed,
to save his children
from themselves.
I hope that you’re right.
Pipeline construction going through a friend’s backyard in my hometown. May 2019.