A Black River Runs Through It. Again

Maybe you've seen the headwaters of this black river,

It's there in Prince Williams Sound,

Where dark puddles linger, decades later--

Here's where it began, with

Death and death and mess.

Floating booms can't restrain stupidity

and bad planning--

Nor can fire burn away carelessness.

If the bitch, Katrina, wreaked anarchy,

Howling for attention,

 Then here is a quiet, black anointing, insidious,

Slinking into the Gulf waters,

Threading through the delicate lace

Of estuary and delta,

Like a Dementor ready to 

Suck the life from us. Again.

Note to BP: Your oily avoidance roils my sense of responsibility

If, by chance, oil should spew from Earth's dark mantle

Without the intervention of God, or Jed Clampett--

Then, indeed, British Petroleum, sans Transocean, or not;

With your oily avoidance, or not;

This ecologic nightmare IS "your accident."


Yours in responsible drilling, C.