Under a Bridge on a Hot Summer's Day
There are few places now
where life can find respite
on hot summer days.
Shady spaces are contested
real estate beneath trees
and in the shallow waters under
a bridge where countless
plump, pink jellyfish congregate
to hide from the heat.
Thousands gather, pulsing
in the warm brine. They look
like brains that have escaped
from skulls, their severed
spinal cords now lethal
clumps of thread hanging down
to entangle the unwary.
The species is thriving
in the warming waters.
These jellyfish have no eyes
to see ahead. To them,
all is now by nudge
and touch. No thoughts
of consequence or compassion
trouble their gelatinous will,
no desire to share
halts their inexorable spread.
To them there is only
an unquestionable need.
They have infiltrated our space,
children of our kind,
servants to a common greed.
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