…but our government wants us to think otherwise (a poem)
by Kelly Tyra
In the Bronx there is a garden people pay to visit, they sit on trolleys that trudge and trash the troposphere with carbon dioxide as concrete and tourist feet stamp out and over Poe’s cloudy-looking woods, this week in Congress the new leader of the EPA denied publically that the CO2 pluming and oozing like an omen from the tailpipes of trucks, trains, planes, factories, and the Botan-mobile in front of me is a leading contributor to global warming, I cross the street to the school where I learned why he is wrong in an intro level environmental education class, the more Pruitt speaks on issues regarding the air we all breathe I wonder why he seems like such an airhead, even I can contribute more expertise and I am only an environmental studies minor, but in class I pay attention, I’ve learned to care, to look at the world as it is, not as it benefits corporation that are recognized as humans while humans often don’t even have that advantage in our country of equality, I’ve learned that white polar bears have black skin as do the ice caps to which they cling and claw as their blubber thins, the ice chunks chip and drip tears of solidarity, turning gray as they float away from one another, but the true terror lies below the surface where warm currents cut like sharks teeth that wash up on beaches that claim more shore, you can hear them crashing, waving goodbye to the world as we know it because some people don’t know, don’t care about those polar bears, whose tundra’s are turning gray attracting the attention of the sun even more every day, and those people are in charge now, the sheer irony mirrored in Greenland’s name as her ice melts, Iceland rebounds as rocks like a memory foam mattress rise to meet the sun again, the coming changes visible in the Springs, at least the ice and green hills of Te Urewera, New Zealand are now protected as people but the land does not have a brutal history to reclaim, a history once glazed over in glacier of our ancestors populating distant places turning century after century of rape and pillage and ending up here or there on the get-away ship into a society that spreads like a cloud of soot across masses of land, calling them countries even as they float away to keep us apart we spread like parasites and called it discovery in textbooks but genocide on remembrance day, do you know, Mr. Business Major, Mr. Trump flag in your window, that dragging a colonoscopy tunnel through the sacred lands of ancestral nations is not worth the money or the heat, it is not making America great again it is poisoning the water, it is poisoning the water and Flint, MI hasn’t had clean water in 1,063 days (last week a school in the South Bronx reported lead levels twice as high) pretty soon kids will need a parent permission slip to learn that your oil is the rotten decay of dinosaurs, yes, I bet(sy) Pruitt will make that phone call but soon he won’t be able to hide the evidence of his negligence. It will have a body count.
Editor’s note: This is meant to be read as like, a poem. Just so you like, you know, know.