by Tricia Knoll
Old friends remember Tom’s birthday party
when we were young and houses were small.
We assembled in the living room to start with wine
or beer, some sort of dip. Then his wife cried out
Pearl! and we all saw that my small gold mutt
named after Janis Joplin stood by
the coffee table to lick half the white frosting
off Tom’s carrot cake. No one noticed
for a long time. A decision made to accept
the other half for the celebration.
This fate of glaciers—sneaky heat
licks them away, inch by inch until
it’s too late to do anything but see
what is and try to figure out
where is the other half of the cake.
Tricia Knoll is a Vermont poet who believes the impact of the IPCC climate report can be felt in what we know is happening in our own lives—and have known but did not address over decades. Much of her poetry is eco-poetry which you can find at tricaknoll.com.
