The upper third color field
is all tin flash, ocean blue shoulders and tics.
That wide mid-brown crossed by shine is sand
and fresh water going home.
like a small child hidden in a hollow tree
while the soldiers kill his family
Seabirds are climate change prisoners. Our inaction makes us the executioners.
You are on the table
but also floating
in the center
of a lake.
A knows of B
That after grim chemo his hair came back
The doctors reckoned they’d licked his disease