Why Don’t We

The animals want us to go —
parrots, pumas, long-lashed giraffes.
Our greed limitless as stars.
Jewel-winged bugs buzz off into extinction.

Parrots, pumas, long-lashed giraffes.
What’s lost won’t be returned.
Jewel-winged bugs buzz off into extinction.
We couldn’t keep our ruin to ourselves.

What’s lost won’t be returned,
like the true beat of our own hearts. Grabbing,
poisoning, we couldn’t keep our ruin to ourselves,
though we’re made from stardust, yearn for light.

Our poisoned hearts beat, Grab more,
greed limitless as the stars
we’re made from. Too late for light.
The animals need us to go.

~ Alison Stone

little capitalists

Who grind your dreams like an Arabica, pull up your
pants, step outside each morning when the birds are
interfering with the playlist, the rumble of the world like a
hunger—you, who charge your dreams like an electric
vehicle. file reports. handle claims. take the temperatures.
who stuff your lungs with the exhaust of Chinese markets,
avoiding detours flagged by migrants. who point your
snout toward truffles e.g 5G eg. sick leave. bend your
knee to shadows asking for the rent. the interest on the
loan. the next installment. who buy into the ads that
subtract you.
On the bookshelf where the weight has bent my
thoughts, the gloomy ghost of Marx looks down, a
paperback.

~ Kathleen Hellen
Previously published in Gas: Poetry, Art and Music