Shifts
Earth’s here quaking,
while I’ve been thinking
of shifts.
Like the shift in love,
the shift in economy:
the dollar-fat trolls
who play tricks.
The many wounded and
the sick.
I see a haze of gray
smoke, it seems
I’ve been hiding in
my dreams,
waiting for the moment
to pretend my
words will mean a damn.
It’s melting away,
they’re going
extinct,
forever isn’t eternity.
We need the land,
the oil, the soil, the spoil,
the life, the ecosystem
means nothing in the
short run...
Grab your gun,
your knife,
you pride,
your flag,
wave them to one another: you’re American.
And when the ocean comes
ashore forevermore,
let the beauty somehow survive
the fittest.
Copyright © Penny Montalvan | Year Posted 2010
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