air quality index 200 and the
blessings over wine, spice, and
candles are followed by grief ritual
dedicated to climate. i, like
emergency room nurses detached from loss,
felt little registering this new notch cut from the
great global tree. only in september did it
hit me, my anxiety building until grief became a relief and
i collapsed in a quiet construction zone at
junction and 75, the smell of diesel sharp in my nose,
kids on scooters making music nearby.
lauryn said everything is everything, and so is
my anguish at the wildfires inseparable from that of
not asking your forgiveness sooner,
or arriving at the park unprepared.
protest speeches call for
quixotic cooperation yet our microcosms seem to
reflect the broader bad more often than not, the
sour side of adrienne’s fractals. remember though,
thoughts derive from feeling:
unhappy assessments themselves inseparable from the
vagaries of the limbic system. the revolution
will not be brought to you by
xerox, gil said, but xanax is probably helping us through
yet another day in the settler colony, code red, the
zenith of everything ever ahead
Planet Detroit and Book Suey partnered to curate and publish climate poems from our community. Read the rest of the poems here.