what's ours
isn't really ours …
we stare at plans
for a bullet train
through the neighborhood
a new rock,
plastiglomerate *
litters the shore—
will the words I leave behind
also survive the seas?
* melted plastic trash mixed with beach sediment and debris
—both of these—red lights, June 2015
Brilliant.
ReplyDeleteIt's sad what humans leave behind.
thanks, gail
DeleteAn excellent pairing of poems, both thoughtful reflections on our impact on the world . . .and its impact on us.
ReplyDeleteI enjoyed these two different - but harmonious - personal "takes" on the unfolding modernity. There always seems to be several sides to it.
ReplyDeleteThanks so much, Jenny and Wendy.
DeleteNothing is constant, except death and taxes. The changes that come are not always for the better. Two well expressed poems.
ReplyDeleteAdelaide