Puddle, seconds before child
stomps that glistening water, sky rain,
cousin to Atlantic and Pacific.
Wet space where Trident gum lives between
teeth and tongue, swishing this way and that,
minty boat soon to be spit out.
Blue eyes, reflecting sunset waves, dancing
light, endless saltwater pools, see, feel
Square windowed snowfall, winter flakes
drift, living Monet, pine trees frozen
I see all the plastic bottles filled and shiny,
pasted labels over clear water within. I’ve
never been jealous of that crinkle sound,
sad little ache after the last drop is gone.
Always wondered what disposable meant,
dented, crushed, twisted, one on top of the
next, in bins, trashcans, on streets. Others
tossed off boats, or tide taken away from sand
into sea. Gulped by curious pelicans hungry
for more than digestive death.
Me, I like lips that touch my rim again and
again, tender sips when I’m brimming with cool
life-giving liquid. But I’m a romantic, I believe
in everlasting love, that you will want me forever.
Dr. Sylvia Earle (Marine Biologist) is in the front row. I’m standing next to Kim Chambers, the open water distance swimmer.
To learn more about Dr. Sylvia Earle and Kim Chambers, please visit: