Global Warming

Global Warming

Our planet is shriveling to a prune,
and the earth will soon pull me
into the fruit's deepest wrinkle.

I will be only hands, hands
waving from a flowerbed. A landmark, for sure.
And this sounds okay to me.
I especially like the idea of a marigold marker
designating my domain, the star on a tourist's map.

This makes my hands clap
and just below the topsoil of my hair,
my face smile, while a root of some sort
pokes out my eye.