Yesterday, I caught sight of an octopus mural on the side of a building
while waiting for a red light to change. One huge arm
extended to pour a cup of coffee.
Such grace in their liquid motion that weathers our blatant disregard,
for the health of the ocean. What does
one Kleenex idly tossed overboard matter
in the grand scheme of things,
or one plastic bottle of water?
I picture octopi having a singular eye that holds us accountable.
when in fact, they have two bilateral eyes.
Let’s call the eyes our conscience, that tweak in the belly
that lurches and gives
us pause.
What if a consortium were to gather, form a congress to decide
where to discard the garbage we leave?
What if they were to secrete a substance that dissolved our waste,
left a calling card saying,
This first service is complementary?
Any further services
will be assessed accordingly.
—
Miriam Bassuk treasures the Northwest for its natural beauty and thriving literary community. Hoping to capture some of that magic, she has been published in Snapdragon, Borderless, and 3 Elements Review. She was also a featured poet in a project sponsored by Tod Marshall, the Washington State poet laureate.
