That Is Just To Say
Fire out beyond the Gulf horizon,
leaving riggers and roustabouts drowned
as the massive steel girders buckled
and the mighty platform toppled,
dropping like a thousand shiploads of anvils,
plunging headlong rapidly down along
those cold oceanic miles to the
wellhead gone totally berserk,
gushing crude like a wild petroleum god,
soon coating the coastline with
a thick tar baby frosting, leaving floating
black death as BP’s summer gift.
Glenn Buttkus July 2010
1 comment:
Glenn, Thanks for your recent poem on the black bomb in the gulf. It looks as though many critters will have adapted to
synthesizing the goop and gas before we have cleaned the tar balls off the Florida and Panama beaches. The articles on deep sea
chemosynthetizing animals carry some hope, but we airbreathers and grungeophobes need to learn how to live less toxicatingly. --
David
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