Greener Days - Dylan Furbay

I never thought I’d see a forest fire on the Flagler palms.

Everglades like ovens blamed, forsaking

soft and breezy Florida balm.

I can never run the beach lest I breathe

the ashes: promises they’d never

keep lest they lose their lap of luxuries.

Remember bees? Remember sap and sugar

running down the maple trees?

Now all I see are roaches rummaging remaining

cans of beans, cattle packed with

nearly nothing in-between,

oats from Oklahoma feeding only

pigs and goats and sheep.

The only thing we’d ever clean:

searches on our modern messaging machines.

Darkness never dies underneath

a stinging summer-scorcher.

Mother doesn’t know that

you’re the one who torched her.

Worry about your protein, and your bible

and your flag wading

with the smog and smoking

all your rivals.

Burn the banisters. Bear the heat. Blame the devil

raising hell beneath our feet.

Evil reeks of unchecked excess.

Framed: the force majeure,

under faucets bleeding dayglo green,

they wash their guiding hands of greed

and guise their mortal malice.