Friday, September 16, 2005

A Sonnet for Global Warming

Poets evoke coming apocalypse,
Puppets hang disjointed and unstrung.
Dreamers toss and turn in nightmare's grip,
Prophets give the urban wasteland tongue.
Some rough beast slouched ashore and brought
A warning none would hear when all was said.
Look what the ocean's hand has wrought
When scarcely stirring from its ancient bed.
High tide and higher, relentless waters roll.
How many shining cities must we drown?
One hundred feet; a billion homeless souls.
What price New York? Miami? London town?

I'll speak you plain: Katrina was Act I.
All coasts will look like that in times to come.

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