by Jane Cassady
You came home talking about gasping turtles
so I Googled “oil spill animals,”
a dangerous search for a depressive;
the birds' bent necks,their weighted beaks.
I Googled “oil spill animals”
and found out, without divine intervention
for the birds' bent necks and weighted beaks
the oil enters the wetlands tonight.
We're not interventions, who are we
to suffocate nests and strand dolphins
to paint the beach in dead fish and globules?
The oil enters the wetlands tonight.
We suffocate nests and strand dolphins--
they swim like consciences beneath the grit.
We paint the beach in dead fish and globules
spell out “Paradise Lost” in humans and surfboards.
They swim like consciences beneath the grit.
She washes out a turtle's mouth.
They spell out “Paradise Lost” in receipts and jokes
fast forward the SNL sketch, too sad.
She washes out a turtle's mouth.
He reaches in brown mud to save a crab.
Fast-forward the SNL sketch, too sad.
(What's so familiar, this halfhearted rescue?)
He reaches in brown mud to save a crab.
She uses a tube to hydrate a pelican.
What's so familiar, this halfhearted rescue,
this apathy of reeds and water?
She uses a tube to hydrate a pelican.
He updates the drowning tallies.
This apathy of reeds and water,
muddy TV news, the constant background.
Drownings in the background,
fires in the foreground.
You can see the video of gushing.
(I won't Google “video of gushing.”)
Fires in the foreground, burn it off,
runaway carbon news, the constant background.
I won't Google “video of gushing.”
I never watched An Inconvenient Truth.
Runaway carbon, the climate of Venus,
we learned this in astronomy class.
I never watched An Inconvenient Truth,
and never wanted to live on other planets.
We learned this in Astronomy class.
The otters, the dragonfly with oil on its wing
never wanted to live on other planets.
If the carcasses zombify, will we react then?
The dragonfly flaps its oil wing,
an asphyxiated otter flicks its whisker.
If they zombify and come for us, will we notice them?
Will we react when the movie comes out?
An asphyxiated otter flicks its whisker,
a human flicks the “share” button.
An invite to pray for the gulf and I'm livid,
zombified by grief.
A human flicks the “share” button,
a dangerous search for a depressive.
When the movie comes out, I'll remember
you came home talking about gasping turtles.
Jane Cassady recently ended two years of AmeriCorps service in Philadelphia public schools and enjoyed a brief lacuna before returning to her preferred life as full-time poet and teaching artist. She is the Slam Mistress of the Philadelphia Poetry Slam. She's appeared in New Verse News, The November 3rd Club, The Comstock Review, Valley of the Contemporary Poets, and other journals. She's performed at such venues as LouderArts in New York City, Valley Contemporary Poets in Los Angeles, and The Encyclopedia Show in Chicago.
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