In this age of the Ash disappearing, we
are stunned by the wood’s unrest, seeing
the multitudes leaning, side by side, like
refugees reduced to lines, collapsing in-
to each other, and nothing can be done.
No wind, or rain, or sun will change
the complexion of this slow demise. No
flowering next year, or the next. Only
bodies floating in darkness, floating in
brackish waters under starless skies,
going somewhere without us.
M.J. Iuppa’s fourth poetry collection is This Thirst (Kelsay Books, 2017). For the past 31 years, she has lived on a small farm near the shores of Lake Ontario. Check out her blog for her musings on writing, sustainability & life’s stew.