everything before us, everything to lose

the god is the machine, swooping in to halt the peat

today I read about a kite

a floating candy stripe

harvesting wind power

                               about a shuttle

seeding cirrus

a carbon capture

                                                             … if today

the god is the machine, swooping in to halt the peat

bomb rising up from agitation of decay

the deus ex in wait

               why are we waiting?

the whales are beaching, the coral bleached

the cardinals and jays are flashing warnings

dive-bombing in the falling

action of the play

a chorus

of furies

in antithesis of mad plantations

that clear the forests for our chewing

gum, our spitting cooking oil … if today

hubris is the way

the problem, human … if we can send up

shuttles mimicking volcanos

to counter slash and burn

why am I digging

on hands and knees

in leaving spring

to plant a tree

in ten thousand cities?

Kathleen Hellen is the author of three full-length poetry collections, including Meet Me at the Bottom, The Only Country Was the Color of My Skin, and Umberto’s Night, which won the poetry prize from Washington Writers’ Publishing House, and two chapbooks.

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