Titan of Plastic

Fernful scene from the Land Before Time

we the people wrapped in plastic

footprint of plastic 
blood of plastic 
body of plastic
modeled after matter spirals down down to particulate still wearing the mantle of plastic
foie gras of plastic 
son of plastic 
sing the thin white songs of plastic

gods of plastic
in this light 

lipping the derelict stack of ruin gossamer veil shimmering almost enough to be proud of almost enough to be the thin slick skin of a waterborne being it wriggles and writhes a world wrapped in plastic curvature of rock and wave jutting against the impenetrable peel a thing that clings to itself tugging and swallowing neverending tighten of plastic

I wanted the last stanza to make the reader feel out of breath and if you listen to the reading… I was 😅

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If last week’s (and really most weeks’) poems are about bewilderment, this week’s is about bafflement. The bafflement of the sheer neglect of the world and the other.

I recently read as if fire could hide us by Melanie Rae Thon — a difficult but transcendent book. Much of it takes place in and around West Seattle (woo!). There’s a passage where one of the characters says something to the effect of “Why are we all not afraid to look under a fern and perhaps see a skull.” For some reason, this image has been rattling around in my brain for the last week whenever I pass a fern. 

To my mind, a fern is a near-timeless being. It channels pre-historic imagery (thinking Land Before Time) and in this climate, most ferns seem to be verdant and thriving most of the time. To imagine something as time-demarcating as a skull next to it was profound to me. So, one day this week I did lift the leaves of a fern and… saw a small pile of water bottles and wrappers. Then this poem happened. 

I’m not going to put facts about plastic disintegrating in here or the questionable nature of recycling or how much plastic is in each living thing because that would bum me out. Instead, some good news:

• A teenager found a possible solution for removing microplastics from the ocean

• Efficient waste-to-energy processes are possible

• Countries continue to work toward plastic bag alternatives

• shocking no one, wax worms are the hero we need right now

Disclaimer: This poem is not a critique of the Barbie movie.

Thanks for reading.