My pond shrinks,
silted, cracked in the warming.
My sea filled-in,
its shores a distant yearning
I’m Joanna, the last to survive
I’ve watched the tumult of humankind
drown out the siren’s song
as it shoals the great ocean.
Now tract homes and shopping malls,
movieplexes and office parks,
golf courses and auto rows, surround
the few salted puddles remaining
Desiccated, my once lithe fin
chipped to webbed nubs
carries me away from my tiny mere.
Through this desert air I limp. Parched.
Just a drop of clean water to moisten my tongue,
just a drop to help me remember my song.
I don’t know
I don’t know.
