'And What Now of Dreaming?' by Deborah Landau

'And What Now of Dreaming?'

And what now of dreaming?

We’ve failed the planet has published our failures.

 

Our crimes are perpetual methane

and sweltering, arrogant and endless—

 

poor fucks we are, breathing mindlessly

as the marsh grass floods,

 

and here comes the supermoon again,

like it’s so special.

 

Weak and disordered become the governments,

disquiet rules us now.

 

Onward, I thought,

and so we were obscured.

 

The snow goes to the gallows

of a warm grass and what survives?

 

Seasons grow immodest,

the bullet sun does parch

 

and drive us migratory

in search of new and fertile fields.

 

The long drought makes blaze the plankton

makes smoke the oceans

 

and insincere the governments—

a demise indelicate.

 

We’re in a deep jelly now

no cause for applause

 

but try a little clemency

my body is warm today, and yours,

 

we have this small span of time

and in this way we’re millionaires.

 

Bright colors we make when pressed, see?

Basta! dawdling on the edge again that’s me.