Behold Our Dark, Magnificent Horror
Bottles line my bath & shelves.
They contain no threat of bodily harm
only youthful glow & hair: promised charm
behind unleashed productive wells.
Potions grant relief from bodily harm,
remake degenerate cells & turn back time.
Profit from released provocative wells
to soften greased palms in fleece-lined pockets.
Would I unmask wrinkles to turn back time,
live without luxuries in my easy modern life,
add measure to capitalists’ deep pockets?
The face in the mirror is mine: yours & mine.
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A pantoum, meant to focus anger, to use anger as a tool — but this poem is not very angry. The plastic & potions are meant to tie my daily petroleum consumption to more than just fuel. I think this could benefit from going further. But this is all I have, right now.
I can’t watch footage of the Gulf disaster — can’t think of the cruel deaths easily seen, or the consequences that won’t be known for years. The oil industry’s Chernobyl. I think that’s right. And I am culpable in that disaster.
I borrowed a couple of lines/phrases for this poem, in addition to the title: “unleashed productive wells” (from Morford) and “they contain no threat of bodily harm” from an email conversation with Carolee on a completely unrelated topic.
* * *
(I just noticed this is Stoney Moss’ 1,000 post. )