Oil Spill

By the time I finish
another hourglass will shatter
fine grains of golden sand
across the tar-stained shoreline

The soil swallows whole
herons about to fly off
birds with wings frozen
sculptures masked by shadow
murky substance dripping like blood
hot coffee grounds swirling into spirally shapes

Diseased and distorted
like some reductive image of mud
all these beaches fill
with lifeless molasses-coated
immovable things

What was it
that truly lurked in the deep
blackened frothiness
wrapping tentacles around our faces
sucking away the memories
the history of manmade disasters

Maybe the same image
I see in my coffee cup
curlicue scribblings by
some watercolor artist
but poisonous

A calm and pleasant sunburnt tide
reds and yellows
mixing as makeup powder
glowing and decadent but deceptive
swirling with an unknown life-force
always moving
changing
morphing
blemishing my line of sight

Pipes burst from the pressure
flames engulf all objects around them
the surface of the gulf’s sheen lit
but not visible

And we are left to scoop away
to find the surviving elements
of carved imperfections
and spoiled dreams.

By Kevin Risner

Biography:

Kevin Risner is a product of Ohio and has lived there for most of his life except for brief periods of time in England and Turkey. At the present, he resides in the Cleveland area where he is ESL Coordinator at the Cleveland Institute of Art. His poetry can be found in Red Paint Hill, Red Flag Poetry, Silver Birch Press, the murmur house, and elsewhere.