What Would the Natives Think

by

J. M. Hallett

This Ancient creek runs foul
From the Cottonwood
To the River Red
Yellow waters
Past the factories, run
Now just a trickle
Stinging of sulfur
Of sewage... of death
Every stone
Covered with scunge
What would the natives
Think of her now
Those whose lives
Her waters sustained
Those who lived
Atop the surrounding hills
Who fished her waters
And hunted her banks
Those who left her
Pristine waters clean
What would they think
Of these modern-day fools
Who fought so dirty
And took her by force
Who choked her
And pissed all over her
Snickering
Then left her for dead
Who streamed on
In every direction
Like a human tsunami
Destroying
Laughing all the while

NEXT?
Why don't you look at Snow
by: Maria Subotovich
from: Kharkov, Ukraine

To visit all of J. M. Hallett's poems, click HERE

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