HORSE LATITUDES

 

 

A raft of debris as large as Africa

accumulates in the Pacific gyre--

 

trash, plastic, rope, netting--a synthetic sea

of flotsam that will outlive us all.

 

Few ships enter. A windless ocean

strikes terror in the crew.

 

If you can’t imagine

the camera pulling back, pulling back

 

until we see the curve of the earth,

pulling back to reveal the atmosphere’s

 

blue glow and still not bounding

the garbage--if we can’t acknowledge

 

the damage done--then recall your secret hurt

that churns and churns and won’t

 

diminish--a spiral so huge,

your mind mutinies and denies it all.

 

 

Third Coast, Spring 2010

Winner of a 2012 Pushcart Prize