By
Matthew Laverty
Plastic Ocean
Warm waters circle spinning,
as plastic that grows looking for
its own
will float, and float, and float
along.
Caught in the rip tides,
a dead fish cannot tell
if the
water
is warm,
as it spins in the tides grip.
Decorations for our beaches,
plastic will
grow and float, grow and float
along—
kinetic masses like atoms
We once
couldn’t see.
Valentine’s Day
At twenty-two I’ve never had
a valentine.
In the gutter
of the streets of Athens
with Crates,
artificial holidays are
strange, they all are.
Love is a field
to sow, and plow, and reap
its benefits,
just depends on who’s doing
the sowing, and who’s plowing
what and who that is reaping
is maximizing benefits
he tells me.
The streets are gold
if you want them to be.
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