|baking April (or Ode to global warming)|
My poems were normally born in spring,
but this year I was tossed straight into the
summer, waiting in vain for April
to wash my worries away.
It seems that I've lost my poems to
the green party-policies pasting
great campaigning smiles all over
the issue of global warming.
I don't mean to be overly blunt, I'm ok
with a bit of political hot
air on saving our environment, investing
in research on alternate energy.
The reality of it, though, is
that this talk will not cleanse my April
showers from the acid rain
that hit them years ago.
All I know is I'm taking out
that August tank top in April,
tossing off my flip flops with
sand stains from last June,
to slip into that new mini
skirt since it's too hot
to wear anything
Yet deep inside my heart aches and
behind that summer silhouette
I feel the buds of April
poems bake away.
It hurts to have them
stay beneath the earth
under the pressure of global warming.
(comment on this poem)