Tarred, once feathered birds
Flail in sickened waters
Dead fish, ghost-like, wash up on oil drenched shores
Lives and livelihoods drowned in an instant.
Oil-choked towns keep on keeping on
Profiteers sleep soundly at night
Dodging their deeds by day
While leaders wring their hands
Workers tune out or turn off the news
Sigh and move on
Wishing there were somewhere else to go.
“We’ve got it under control,”
Self-proclaimed experts shout
from elevated stages.
“No one’s in control,”
Blurts out an honest child,
Awakening adults from their recurring nightmare.
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