By | 1 February 2020

“If swathe after swathe of blighted ocean
Leaves you all glazed and indifferent, then,”
The thick black letters of the handbook say
“Rig this. Rope them in. Find the wit to sway

Your kin. First, find a child with grave green eyes
To set next to a rubbish dump where flies
Swarm sickeningly. Next, before a face
Drought-wrecked but not void of pathos and grace

Set a cracked, weeping, desiccating hearth:
Find human codes for urgency and worth.”

For alone, my Earth, you are not enough
For us to save you.

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