Listen, You

 by Ingrid Bruck

blue sky repeats repeats blue water
it's hot enough for summer but it's fall
and Novemeber's not the time to pick blueberries in Wisconsin 
a pileated woodpecker bigger than the feeder 
swings and pecks 
two carolina wrens and a nut hatch watch
sky glowers gray
the mistakes we made with everything 
a cloud choke
a cold and hot front clash 
a torrent
in the octoraro watershed
creek banks overflow
from east branch & west branch 
from pequea creek & midle creek 
from the conestoga to the susquehanna river 
mud flows in the run 
death before death
wind pummels leaves off a pussy willow bush
heat pelts late fall
a litany of climate change
the chance / to stand on the corner & tell earth goodby
listen you, wake up!

(After: Lines from Amy Miller's "To Whoever Inherits the Earth" at Rattle: 
listen, you
the chance / to stand on the corne & tell earth goodby*
the mistakes we made with everything 
death before death
*Amy Miller credits her poem being inspired by William Stafford's Poem 'Waiting in Line': 'the chance / to stand on a corner and tell it goodby!' )
https://www.rattle.com/to-whoever-inherits-the-earth-by-amy-miller/

American Sonnet (After: Nomad Poem by Pierre Joris)

by Ingrid Buck

baby boomers, a multitude
on the move from one other to another other   
we steal and cheat in match-girl's story, 
we are rocks in pockets of medicare, social security, young workers
los jóvenes. sin zapatos, sin comida, sin centavos
   la pobre niña tiene hambre y mucho frio

so many viejos 
our world on fire 
each body, a suitcase, 
sits packed at the door

a comet streaks
greed fans iceball flames
age speeds time 
       
wetravel        onebyone         light into the night
wewalk         alone                 upthemountain  
freezewrapped in the same half-blanket we leave our children
no food or water needed this trip       
no time to douse fires we started

what we leave behind 
  under a bleak winter sky
     pockmarked with stars
         ¡Pobrecito! poor cold child
       
            little match-girl
         flares and drops

bird: morning/evening

 by Ingrid Bruck

in the woods 
the robin's song 
cocooning dawn

on the shore 
a seagull’s silence
wrapping sunrise

early evening 
egrets wheel west
chasing sunlight 

twilight 
blackbirds wing east 
racing darkness

Rita Hayworth, The Dragon-Slayer (Line from: Post-Modernism by James Galvin)

 by Ingrid Bruck

Cloud Dragon, you wake devils and bring doom.
“Rita Hayworth was taped to the bomb that fell on Hiroshima.”
Big Boy never asked, “Wanna be a destroyer?”
No, it’s, “Pretty Lady, come ride with me.”  

In the name of woman – I call you Monster. 
Fury poisons atoms, even water rebels. 
Ocean Shaker lifts a tsunami. 
Sky Thrasher hurls torrents of rain and floods. 
Strangler traps a catch in a riptide.
Ice Heart churns snow to an avalanche.
Desiccator sips rivers, lakes and streams to desert. 
Fire Breath charges inland on waves. 

Cloud-Lady shape-shifts and rides.
A stallion kicks a mare in the side, 
his hooves pound and drum her ribs, 
beat flesh like a drum skin.  
She cringes at each hollow blow, 
follows each crash and boom. 
Sorrow sings in drumbeat and flute, 
chant and cheramie echo,
rumble shakes the air, 
  vibration courses in raindrops
rivulets stream down her cheeks. 

She-Dragon blesses each day's gratitudes. 
Griefs, she limits hers to three:
one for each story-doll under her pillow,
they work out problems at night.  
Heavy sand lifts on gusts,
sharp edges shave off,
harsh notes sand down, recombine & sweeten. 

Witch. Bitch. Slut.
Life Force. Life Taker. Baby Maker. 
She forgives what she can’t control
but shears Solomon’s hair.
Rita Hayworth sleeps
with angels. 

Call for Clean Water

by Ingrid Bruck

The lit upper levels
of the world’s oceans 
produce most of the oxygen 
earth needs for life. 

Water is holy, blessing optional. Life began in water. Come quench your thirst at the open faucet, drink mouthfuls of water straight from the tap. Dawn braids a sparkling rope of light from sun to sea to shore, the setting sun a pale mirror on the ocean. 

Wet uninhabitable deserts grow, 
five great sea patches of desolation,
405 dead zones,
the whale-path littered with plastic that whales choke on. 

The surface crackles, white flames dance on lit upper levels of the world’s oceans. Whales sing  joy for the light show, a lung deep hum, a pulse that spirals and echoes between each other under water. 

Dirty water smothers
algae, diatoms, plankton,
fowl, flowers and fish 
gasp for air. 

A fish gets caught on a hook, mouth open agape, lungs on fire, a silent scream for clean water. He can’t pull oxygen-rich water through his mouth and pump it over his gills so he can breathe. Lidless black eyes spark terror. The color of the ocean echoes a silver scaled sky on a stormy day.  

Who Killed the Honeybees?

by Ingrid Bruck

grass no longer hums
flowers don’t buzz
and you stop looking down
when you walk barefoot in clover

the sting of silence

each third mouthful of food
depends on bees for pollination,
they sustain the food chain
and are dying

the sting of silence

when bees starve for lack of flowers
or get lost going home and vanish,
when thirty countries ban American food
and GMOs enter our DNA

the sting of silence

when bees rain down in a parking lot at Walmart,
red wing blackbirds fall from the sky on highways,
and a million fish die in the Arkansas River,
when captive dolphins and whales turn killers

the sting of silence

half the world’s animals have perished since the 70s,
six gulls in a flock, instead of wheeling hundreds,
when only one Monarch visits your garden in a  year
and few bats rake insects on the currents of night

the sting of silence

oceans turn to deserts, fishermen left jobless,
acid rain drains life out of lakes and rivers.
only a quarter of the frogs are left
to croak a night song of coming death

kill-offs, die-offs, honeybees vanished

the sting

One Rabbit

by Ingrid Bruck

Rabbit hops away,
a dandelion held in his mouth
the silver orb of seeds bobs
on the end of the stem it is eating.