fever-penned poem

environmental degradation


even as gregarious as I was

solitude was always a friend;

and I had a love affair

with the fleeting moments

when I could veil myself

with the shroud of the forest

or the film of dirt and roots


I would position trees

to ping the echoes

of my enemies and predators

the way an orca whale hunts.

had I the raptor’s ferocity

of spirit, I would come rushing

out of the shadows for the kill

only to return to the dark

and panting steam that

I had never left.


I lived in an ocean I’d failed

to learn to navigate or survive singularly

one of spastic, unpredictable predators

and rarely a rock to hide under.

so, I would retreat to its furthest recesses

at depths where almost nothing lived

in an ironic solitude


fearing both the invisible fathoms


the passing columns of shadows

filled with disembodied noises.


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