sweet or sour
crude is crude
no poetry
derives from chimney
smoke
of oil flares
cold-blooded
glass eyed gaze
from the slick
surface
the sleek
flapping
slowly
dying
of what use are fish
in a creek
when quick
liquids swell untapped
epileptic the Atlantic
surf and blue
over shells
debris
collecting over ages
salt in the breeze
not distant smells of oiled freshwater
think of dagger in the hands
of a raped bride
when the sheen has spread
think of Valdez
Ogbudu
Adje
how easily emotions flared
you'll understand there is
no hashish in their action
restive youths sniff no fragrance
in polynuclear aromatic hydrocarbons
there's no explanation
where dollar crushes responsibility
no insulation
when the simple river wears a different sheen
nothing's fresh about the swamp
when leaching begins
no remediation
for the fish caught in a stunned gasp
no expiation is munificent enough
for my flammable land
fumes overwhelm breath
toxins overwhelm the warm-blooded
and amphibians and reptiles
no logic is needed
why the delta is reduced
to one hydraulic drill
just orgiastic
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