Dear Mother Earth,

I hope you are okay after 

we poured bleach down

your throat and gave

the last few sips

to the Great Barrier Reefs


I hope a mother’s love 

can withstand the pain 

of Grand Canyon-sized wounds

covered with band-aids trademarked 

Made in China


I am sorry the only form

of sustainability we know 

is to reduce fossil fuels

reuse green house gases

and recycle pollutants


How many people would cry

if Frosty the Snowman replaced

with the legend of the 

Great Pacific Garbage Patch


I am sorry we continue

to blow our excuses

and methane,

and 40 billion tons

of carbon dioxide

into the atmosphere


Get Well Soon

I know your hot flashes

are unbearable, especially

with the 0.6 degree

rise in global temperature


I am sorry Uncle Sam 

didn’t give a single damn

about 10.8 million barrels of crude

suffocating Alaska’s beaches and animals

in the Exon Valdez oil spill


Human distress doesn’t address 

the price tag of fracking beneath

The Great Lakes,

the largest freshwater system

in the world.


It’s easier to look the other way,

when caught up in the work-life whirlwind.

But no matter how great the United States is,

comfort cannot be salvaged

when the world stops spinning.

This poem is about: 
My country


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