Tag: eco-poem

The Mosasaur Capital of the World by Adrianna Gordey

~ ONE ART ~ 1 Comment
The Mosasaur Capital of the World
The Tylosaurus skeleton spirals to the ceiling, a corkscrew
of ribs & vertebrae & teeth. AC weaves through its bones
while a heat wave quilts Kansas. Squares of sunlight smother
the college campus, but the fossilized apex predator’s shadow
protects me. The mosasaur’s terrestrial ancestors returned
to the Western Interior Seaway, & I wish I could follow
their flippers. The risky reinvention of their DNA
inspires me. In a million years, my offspring could dominate
what’s left of the world with unhinged jaws perfect
for swallowing. I won’t wallow in the land-locked misery,
but I wonder if my sun scorched bones will hang as a mobile
above cribs, a warning to future generations. The asteroid
that ended the dinosaurs was a mercy; global climate change
is a slow, sticky march towards extinction. Meteorologists forecast
heat indexes of 125° once a year in the KC metro. Although Tylosaurus
is Kansas’ official marine fossil, I prophesize we won’t acclimate
to the smog or power outages. No one will award 600 bottles
of wine for my skeleton because the long-necked bottles
will be buried beside me in landfill graves. The mosasaurs
were satiated with giant sea turtles & sharks, but humanity’s
hunger & heat indexes will unravel the double helix of our DNA.
*
Adrianna Gordey (she/her) is a writer based in Kansas. When she isn’t writing, Adrianna can be found daydreaming about the Atlantic ocean and assembling overly ambitious Halloween costumes. Her work has appeared in Passengers Journal, Hunger Mountain Review, and elsewhere. Follow her on Instagram @by_adrianna_gordey.

A moment in Maui by LeeAnn Pickrell

~ ONE ART ~ 4 Comments

A moment in Maui

Setting out at 5 a.m. for the sea turtles’
morning march into the water at Kalepolepo Park.
The night is as inky dark as the water.
A man says he counted twenty-eight turtles
two days ago. Today I see only
one turtle pop its head above the water
before descending again. But the moon is full,
reflecting the sun and the day to come.
For almost a week, I’ve tried to silence
the world’s cruelty, really our cruelty,
our chaos, our wars, our hearts closed
to others’ suffering. Later, volunteers
will put up flags to keep us twenty feet
from the turtles that return to nap at low tide.
Everything needs to be protected from us.
The clouds slowly pinken as I wade into the ocean,
and the moon falls into my opened palms.

*

LeeAnn Pickrell is a poet, freelance editor, and managing editor of Jung Journal: Culture & Psyche. Her work has appeared in a variety of online and print journals, including ONE ART, Loud Coffee Press, Atlanta Review, and MacQueen’s Quinterly. She has a book forthcoming from Unsolicited Press. She lives in Richmond, California, with her partner and two fabulous cats.