2035 the End - Cop26 I

The old fashioned monsoons Meant for the flowers and cacti of Arizona California And New Mexico Have fled those deserts and dusty reservoirs To find a new friend instead in Michigan Up here in the Great Lakes We’re not used to summer waterfalls And sweaty doors Swollen Refusing to fit their frames Stair railings sticky to the grab of hands Hostas Soaked and dripping From late afternoon and overnight rain Shaking their elephant ears To the canes of a next-day morning sun Shimmering to the swab of legendary Bumblebees Lavender born again We should fill our canteens with this new paradise Wait at the edge of our frontier with these gifts For our brother and sister American migrants Who will crawl here on their knees At some point Or we could build a “great beautiful wall It’ll cool down” To keep those parched rapists murderers and deniers out At least Until this dusty herd of yesteryear Moves past us and with us Up the stairs to Canada And then it will be we Who knock on that door Ajar To see if we are allowed in From there? In a someday soon? It will be like the Earth’s atmosphere itself Peeling off into space for the barren moon Mars or Neptune.