the self-soothing white sticky
we wipe our hands of
only to dry, so we may peel it
off in one long strip, revealing
our uniquely ugly palm. Sunday
schooled, white washed
hodgepodged coated strips of
that morning’s news. Covering the
carbon dioxide-filled whale bowel
blocker so we may be taught “Where is the Earth’s
green, and where is her blue?” Cement,
made of rubber trees, whipped and putrid.
Such social glues are psychiatric
symptoms of a poor attachment style
to our common Mother
Earth, and learnt perspectives of power,
permanent and monumental,
normalizing traditions, of what
all the mes & wes did
to all the yous.
first published in Headline Poetry & Press
Hokis | Poetry 