How do we prepare for the great
projected calamities of our century,

the ones we can’t even imagine yet
could be more devastating than tremors

in the earth, more than fire in the almond
groves or poison lining the lips of wells?

Out west and farther south, heat swells
the mercury in the glass; screens fill

with an acreage of dust while elsewhere,
roots of plants explode from a surfeit

of moisture. How much of our greedy
treasures will survive fire or flood?

From instinct, carpenter bees drill
into the soft undersides of wood; small

animals trip over the trash when motion
sensor lights wash the driveway’s edge.

Every iris widens more in darkness: and yet
we ask if there’s nothing we could do

to stop from happening what’s bound to happen;
if there’s nothing we could keep from change.


In response to Via Negativa: Soporific.

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