Vengeance

Very little that's lost is ever really lost,

it just moves to a new neighborhood.

The dead plankton that drifted

to the bottom of shallow Mesozoic seas,

merged with mountains worn to sand

glommed into the primordial anoxic goop

that simmered into the thick black soup

from which Glad makes plastic sandwich bags

and Exxon refines the elixir

that  your Mustang guzzles

and your Prius sips before it slips

out the exhaust pipe to the atmosphere

where a certain proportion dissolves

in our acidic Anthropocentric sea.

Saltier now than a Hawksbill

sea turtle's tears. Do they weep

because the plastic shopping bag

resembles the jellyfish they eat?

Now the sea works patiently

to drown Miami and Manhattan,

Pele awakens from her sleep,

releases her fiery hair and toxic breath,

Planetary vengeance, unlike ours,

will be a dish served warm not cold.