At poetry club
I could think of nothing
But to write
About how I had
Nothing to write.
And then I thought,
"The Aral Sea,
Victim of lack of socialist foresight,
Is dead,
Drought and dessication
Taking its place.
Once there were islands,
Once there were cities on the sea
And railways elevated
Above the waves.
Once there were fish and fishermen
And schools and children.
Now, sands and salt
Sift sullenly
In the winds of artificial desert."
Thus were my thoughts
About the death of seas.
Do you ever feel
That your headwaters
As well have been diverted
To grow cotton in Uzbekistan?
And that the sea of your life
Is shrinking and drying,
The fishes dying,
Villagers fleeing,
Drought o'ertaking,
Workmen leaving,
Hot winds raking
The salts and sands
That are all that's left
Of an ocean of ended dreams?
I hope not.
I hope you have
I hope you have
No idea
What that's supposed to mean.
1 comment:
Wow! I actually really like this one. If you divorced the poem proper from the "nothing to write" bit it would be better.
My favorite are the implied similes (if that's at all the right term) like how the 'schools and children' line directly follows the fish line. Also the amazing headwaters diverted to cotton in Uzbekistan image. perfect.
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