too big to fail, too
old to trust, the
water sullied by
glowing particulates, threading
thick through the life-blood
of this landscape
and who shall hear her
call, soft through the
night, winding through
the trees, now bare in winter,
waiting for the green garb of
spring?
will it come again?
or shall the rivulets shine,
doubling and redoubling mutations,
reworking our DNA until we are
what?
fault lines and faulty
thinking: a poor pairing
indeed, piercing the ground
with poisoned daggers, killing
the one who bore us
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