and rain no longer falls
a broad sweep of machinery screams
its half-track creak cries out ‘timber’
jibes jibs at trees older than breathing
it lurches and dives
a predatory steel bird
spawn of dinosaurs
a descendant lizard
extinction in every rusted scoop
yellow paint
peeled from corroded arms
flakes like cowardice
its colour sunk in the forest floor
banished to invisibility by deforested filth
its pestilence a wound
where blades cut soil and bedrock
where hydraulic death
stalks behind shattered hardwood
whose trunks were stolen
to turn a worthless coin
in a septic city far away
its flames only smoke on the horizon
too easy to ignore
a smudge
on the smooth surface of convenience
a fire-front
cracking below hearing
rustles its unease
as the planet’s cinder
glows white hot with an anger
once lit to run unquenched
like vengeance
like a plague
like all apocalyptic things
once written in parables and texts
biblical koranic vedic
myths of gods and wrath and raining bile
volcanoes erupted
even then but none were more than a spark
to the tinder left behind by exploitation and desire
where now the green places are blackest
where wheels drove inroads too deep
to be anything else
but scars and violation
© BH, 2019
An article about deforestation, pictures of fire and heavy plant. Like cigarette ash on the lungs of the works. Major surgery. Excision. All for what. Furniture? Pah!
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