How hard to compose an original love poem
or anything, really, all of us talking and
tweeting nonstop, never has it been easier to read
or write, so why do we understand so little,
why do we not value Black or Indigenous
or immigrant life, why do we poison, pollute,
deforest, wage war, O if only the chainsaws
in our throats would go quiet we might hear
a sadness welling up, we might swallow
each other’s tears, we might fall asleep together,
chests rising and falling like the footsteps of our
great-great-grandchildren, like the sound of crickets
chirping away despite all that would eat them alive.