And It Was Good
Not the green-grey sludge
snaking to the river’s edge.
Not the sun’s overdone orb
baking the snake to a dry bed of dust.
Not the hands of a man cracking open
stones in a barren bed of dirt
beside a field void of crops,
or trees, or snakes, or
soul. Not the frickin’ fracking
or the culture-draining pipe.
And the morning and the evening
of the umpteenth billionth year…
And it was not good, not not good,
not not not not not not not not not not not not not
