Earth Day 2010
Fabian Cousteau maps oceans’ shame
Rothchild’s plastic boat Plastiki explores Pacific’s plastic moat
radical rich guy floats on craft, crafted of over 10,000 bottles,
held together with a cashew and sugar glue formula
his money put to super good use
searches for islands of bags, bottle caps, Styrofoam cups
and containers to go
that form the 90 foot deep Pacific Garbage Patch gyre
twice the size of Texas
a giant finger print whose ridges curl in ocean currents
like a hand’s appendages; there are five
not just this one I have described
and he wants us to think where these manmade fingers point
our future somewhere “between Scylla and Charybdis”
toxic transfer; BPAs poison mammals, fish
even corals and clam shells, nothing uncontaminated,
to become an uninhabited waste
he went upon this sustainable voyage to set an example
adopt life style changes; to suggest that we follow the 4 Rs
reduce, reuse, recycle and refuse
think about everything we use and what do we do with it
when we are through
Sea Turtle’s Lament
BP’s Tony Hayward sleeps sound, believes “it is a big ocean.”
his ad-men reports that the Lower Florida Keys can breathe
easy; relax, the tar balls are not from the petroleum spill,
yeah sure, the Great White is a vegetarian too.
the Deepwater Horizon’s oil slick rides on the tide.
still the mangroves and sea grass quiver and shake
Sea Turtle reports as he packs up his brood,
I won’t get caught like a pig in a poke or like my friend
the Brown Pelican, his fine fowl feathers, now pitch sticky black.
he is stuck on the beach, trapped like a pearl in a clam,
Sea Turtle gossips; I’ve heard
that the dolphins are getting drunk on the crude, beached belly up;
blue fin tuna will follow, beach birds, sandpipers and plovers suffer too,
small fry are particularly vulnerable this time of year;
the same goes for the shrimp, the blue crabs and the oysters.
hard shell or soft shell it doesn’t matter.
Sea Turtle becomes silent,
then petulantly exclaims, fish-scales! With an expletive slap of his flipper,
if I could, I would drop the damn B.P. CEO’s into the oil,
let them slip in the slime, let them bob in the muck and the mire
until British Petroleum controls and cleans up the freaking oil leak,
restoring my ocean home!
sadly the Deepwater Horizon’s oil slick still rides on the tide
and the mangroves and sea grass quiver and shake.
In my idealist youth, one of my first jobs was with the Citizen’s for the Better Environment, as a fundraiser. We were the annoying foot soldiers of a war that has escalated. Currently, I do not have the stamina nor energy to be on the front line, but if I can motivate you to do something about this environmental catastrophe, be it only to dig deep into pockets that have already become worn thin by life in general, I am grateful.
I also believe that we as a people have an awareness of the seriousness of this situation, yet we feel helpless. Our planet is bleeding. It is time to chose to not be powerless, but to take action. Each has a gift within and if this gift is used with intent there is hope to heal her. I pray for Mother Earth. I pray for us.
Donna Pecore holds a BA in Poetry from Columbia College Chicago. Recipient of the Alma Stuckey Award, Donna is published in: the “South Loop Review,” the “NCC Review,” the online newsletters ” “The Solitary Plover,” “Poetry Victims” and the website “Fieralingue.” Poetry found Donna at Weeds, a local venue in ’96 and changed her life. She believes poetry should be heard and reads at any open mike that will have her. Currently, Donna is working on a MA with a Teaching Certificate at UIC.