They called us—

the light eaters

The ones who crawled

from the glisten

of tidebirth

We prepared for the seas

(slit gash)

by learning to sail

the dried-out dunes

digesting plastic

in every gulp.

polypropylene

burps in bubbles

leaves a grime-stain

so soiled and so pitch

that even the trees

mock us

I believe in water,

the sacred bond

of hydrogen

to oxygen

I believe in currents,

spreading fingers

over Alaska, Antarctica,

clawing for decades,

threatening

through her teeth,

I’ll return to you, whether

you say stop

or not.