Poem: Full Circle
Came to Los Angeles from New Zealand, where
An artesian spring spews forth artisanal beverages for
Sophisticated folk in search of hydration
The water got here on a plane or a boat that
Burned a different kind of petroleum product than
What was used to make the bottle.
All of it came from billions of deaths, from trillions of trilobytes
Settling down for eternity in a tarry soup
Within the earth bowl we scoop and slurp and sip,
Probing, poking, prying. Cleaving.
Sensible and somehow right, isn’t it, that this
Plastic jug of agua Kiwi is finally home in the dirt?
Where it belongs?
Shielding vulnerable babies from attack and maybe
Death, inevitable and necessary for them and us and everything that lives
To make more oil for whatever comes next.