As if we didn’t have abundant griefs
of late, with drought and flood and ailing trees,
we’re decimating all the coral reefs –
our monkeyshines resulting in degrees
of warmth we never need and can’t dispel –
we’re too far gone along the blazing path
we slashed and burned for dominance. Unwell
we’ve grown, and now we’re paralyzed in wrath.

The middle class existing to consume
has wasted like the resource that it was –
its members and the bosses now assume
that yesterday can be reclaimed, because
we want it so – as if a clap of hands
three times will animate our sad demands.

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