By Sonam Kaloti, Arts Editor
Doomsday creeps forward. I am infuriated
at myself and the world
for being elated in our day to day and week to week
giving no second look to the planet beneath
us. I don’t care most of the time. I’m in my prime,
fingers are tightly curled
in a fist I hurl part-time for my own gain, for my own name
don’t fight for where I live so I’m the one to blame.
That makes two of us: me and you. Corporations
pretending they don’t fit
the equation. As if it’s not them, high, blowing plumes of greed
in the sky. Politician dissuasion, mastered evasion.
I’m infuriated at myself and the world
for being elated all day, we don’t care in the meantime.
We should pay for our crimes. Our greed will make us bleed.
Doomsday creeps forward, and Mother Nature will feed.
