[Image courtesy of MIKE]
By Lauren Lee
foaming gulfs billow into sheets of glass
clattering ferns of feral green
the wind hushes,
wispy ribbons of sodden gray and dusty tuff
dusts its upper lip
–
swirling fogs seal the bitter cave
threatening unjust peril in its tantrums of gloom
–
Despair marks the dripping icicles adorning the jagged
mouth
gasping for clarity in the midst of sticky residue:
brittle carcasses and musty debris birthed in multitudes
–
Crumbles of concrete smear the sodden mere
huddling flocks shudder, battered and blue
seagull wings twisted with fine wire, gawk
at the dimming sun,
their beady eyes bulging beneath coffee-hued bottle caps
–
tingling murmurs of the remaining power plants, beckon
inhumane carols of dry bronze and caustic fumes
before brittle snow whisks it away in a blaze
–
rivers, don’t fall for their plastic traps;
bars and traps of fatalism awaits us
