Blue, green, aquamarine,
black, brown, dangerous sheen,
salted, cool buoyancy,
poisoned slick murk,
fresh with dead,
crisp with crude,
the season to spawn,
to dive, to school-
ah, no, to be strangled
to be slathered and drown.
It’s fixed says he!
It’s over, writes she.
When desperate, we learn.
The next spill will be fixed
in days, maybe minutes-
we’ll spend to its end.
Some scientists crow
others study and cry.
Children quickly forget-
their parents pretend.
All watch while the tricksters
spin greedy new tricks.
But bellies churn.
and hearts ache.
Hope tries to fly
but the truth tramps it down.
In this God’s Gulf
oil and water won’t mix.
Nonnie Augustine
August, 2010
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