On the Melting of the Antarctic Ice Shelf

We値l climb down salt-encrusted stairs
when the klaxon clangs all-clear,
see what痴 flopped up on the stoop today.
We値l make a meal of horseshoe crab
or stranded eel様et痴 chuck this rancid skate.
We値l peruse pothole tidepools, slog through
silt flats, hurl cockleshells at rusted cabs,
vie for supplies with ragtag gangs,
then scamper home when sirens warn
the ocean痴 scaled the barricades again.

Tonight we値l jet-ski up Fifth Avenue,
drag-race with those uptown clowns,
slalom the line of relief trucks that failed to run
the tide. We値l trawl the boulevards for tiger shrimp
to punctuate our barbecue, turn home to light
our rooftop fire, help friends to moor their skiffs
at our front door. We値l dance beneath a spate
of stars, rekindled in the death of city lights
then go downstairs to bid our friends goodbye
before another ebb tide strands them dry.

--Tony Hoffman

(c) 2001

Published in Jack Vol. 1, No. 4

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