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A huge island of discarded cups, bottle caps, plastic laundry baskets, rubber sandals, and other garbage has formed in an area of sluggish currents and slack winds halfway between California and Hawaii. The Eastern Garbage Patch, as this floating dump is called, is twice the size of Texas.
—Los Angeles Times

three-quarters
of the earth sloshes
around, 326 million
trillion gallons, some
say one big drop,
circulating lifeblood,
transfusing forms —
what used to quench
dinosaurs is now 95
percent tomato
/ Drink up, piss away, flush /
otherworldly, the deep and wide seas roll open, defined not by coastline but by air undulating, skies adrift with ghostly gases rising warm dipping cool coiling clockwise into a slow-stir current, a gyre of lethargic rhythm orbiting the eye
/ Unwind swim and surf or sail far away, far /
across the downwelling desert a polyethylene beast prowls, a mutant plesiosaur maybe — hungrier than twice texas and regurgitating cast- away plastic swill: unmatched flip-flops & nikes, tv dinner trays, tampon applicators, syringes, an inhaler, 29,000 yellow duck bathtub toys
/ Float face up like bubbles and flotsam /
5.5 x 1015 per annum, give or take, countless unbreakable insoluble manufactured particles sopping up toxins day by indigestible day, trawl nets congesting with glassy scintillas, which to the starving albatross resemble fish eggs
/ Gasp, sputter and gag swallowing, sink /
a human soul dwells in maritime; fill its flesh from tiptoe to armpit, that’s how much water, 72%, even more in blood pumping nutrients and waste, wants and don’t wants, all the panaceas and the venom
/ Weep your last, the unwept oceanic tears /

Copyright © 2007 by Mary Ann Schaefer
All work owned by individual author and should not be reproduced without permission.

 

All pages © 2007 Mary Ann Schaefer

poetry imagery mary ann