Turtle Island Microfiber
The radio tells me this morning,
in voices kind and concerned,
there are particles of plastic in Lake Champlain
so small, they can’t be filtered by treatment plants.
“Micro plastic trash” they called it.
(“Punk Rock band” my ears amuse).
This plastic from fleece-wear
“will merge with our food chain”, is announced.
We will eat plasticated fish
from laundering our fine-threaded plastic shirts.
My son, visiting home from college, has my head spinning
trying to keep up with all his words for environmental and social tragedy.
Apparently, we are trying to repossess
ourselves of our humanity
away from psycho technology
in the Anthropocene.
I am glad his generation is trying
to figure it out because
I want my children, and theirs,
to know sparkling water that hosts creatures who
co-habit with us and provide sustenance
that is clean and pure.
Water they can dip their toes into and want to plunge further.
Nutritious air that lungs can consume with passion.
Will that story be a memory told,
of an ancient dream, of an island called “Turtle”?
By Marjorie Moorhead
Marjorie Moorhead writes near the border of NH/VT. Mother, Sister, Daughter, Wife, AIDS survivor, she has found her language of choice to be Poetry.
Marjorie’s work can be found in A Change of Climate (2017; benefitting the Environmental Justice Foundation), HIV Here&Now (Indolent Books poem of the day 11/17/17), as well as forthcoming collections from Blueline and Hobblebush presses.