Poetry

Spying eyes

In the muddy crevice under old bottle caps

the fluffy entrails of a forgotten teddy bear

strings of off-white dental floss and

the worn velvet box holding a tarnished golden ring

the red eyes peek out at the world

seeing the boys with their sharp sticks

hacking and chopping and coughing

pillaging for anything redeemable

in this stained, rotting welt on the crust

not knowing if they’ll have enough to buy dinner

or become the dinner of something else

Poetry

It’s okay

Apparently it’s okay

to demand help five minutes before the world sleeps

and then stroll off under the stars

without even the thought of thanks.

 

It’s fine to dig up liquefied bones

and fashion them into inflatable rings

to bob along on the surface of the Earth’s sweat-sheened skin

only to cast them aside when the sun hides its head.

 

It’s fine to book safaris in a distant country

while the wildlife nearby is trampled underfoot,

hit by cars and choked by polluted air,

with reserves holding fundraisers in the wake of blind eyes

and deaf ears.

 

It’s fine,

until the wall of ignorance crumbles

at your feet.

Poetry

Single Use

The world is full of it,

those thin translucent panes that cover everything:

good enough only once.

Shielding tea bags, bagging berries, covering loaves, holding fancy water.

Filming every moment.

Wrapping everything individually.

Like fish, sea turtles, the bellies of gulls and whales and sharks.

Gathering in beaches replacing the sand, floating majestically beside jellyfish

in a competition the sea will never win.

The sea will never win

unless we step up and stand beside it,

on the same side, not the opposing team.

Tearing down the bergs of pollutants

to help raise the ship,

not sink it.

If we can unwrap our minds,

we can unwrap the world,

let it breathe, expand its lungs

and gulp the air, safe in the knowledge

it will no-longer choke.

Hold our your hand,

hold out your heart,

if those wanting glinting gold

refuse to look,

wrap them up instead.

Poetry

Plastic Jellyfish

Salt crystals linger around my lips

from my time drinking in the ocean.

My belly is swollen, now hosting

millions of lives so I can keep them safe

from the rest of the world

with its beads

and bags, nets and hooks

tangling everything and anything in sight.