fever-penned poem

environmental degradation

10.24.10

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

and

the passing columns of shadows

filled with disembodied noises.

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