i dig my fingers deep into her soil.
"show me where it hurts." i whisper.
she does not answer for weeks.
when she does, it is in the
poisoned bellies of
children and trout.
when she does, it is in
the dying grass
and infertile soil.
when she does, she chokes
on the black tar and
oil tangled in the fur of the otters.
when she does,
it is in the flooded roads
and rising tides.
when she does,
she cries in agony
as she flows across
a land once wild,
her lifeblood
poisoning her sisters.
when she does, we refuse to listen.
YOU ARE READING
Meet Me in the Woods
Poetryassorted poetry inspired by nature, family and the life of a person who spends far too much time in her head. (sexuality, death and decay are alluded to or directly addressed in some of my poems. these poems are marked by "*" in the chapter title.) ...
