Woman, why,
are you crying
because sea rise
wraps silken floods around
sparse dry land
and we watch her gently
rush in and break the heart land--
strain the threads of barbed wire we imposed and carve her own
path-patchwork
in bends and wiles.
The ocean warming yet yearns
to cool the stony clods of smoke
buouyed by betrayal
--That would fall into her arms--
because deep isn’t troubled
By our blatant disregard for
her way of life and
is always
reclaiming what belongs
to her
each time
she ebbs and flows.
She fidgets, fumbles and pulls at sand in hands
made of melted ice?
For the trapped animal
on the small land of being woman
beginning
to question
her cage of barren branches:
over against the white sky
they are never
/more than/
cracks in the heavens.
because her face upward greets the rain
coming off the brittle fingertips
--Two drips at once--
Until she has reason
To believe it is not (just ice)
--her tears falling fast enough--
to cause the ocean to swell.
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