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Small Acts of We

A hazy ending of the fearful and the famous

Jun 17, 2022

I used to cut plastic rings for the seals,
released from the cans they carried,
now discarded petroleum knives to sever

pup necks and puffin spawn. Maybe
there’s a turtle out there with a Starbucks straw
lynching its nostril because of my iced latte —

another life ended with benighted acts.
Ankle deep, I feel the distant songs
of whale advocation, a light ray adoption

of snowflake and chlorophyll. Another mother
with afib and we’ll crack open her breastbone
to fix our broken factory of living, strangled

by an infinite creation of we. One more séance,
a hazy ending of the fearful and the famous,
the needy, the needed, and the nothing at all.