By Everett Cruz
The ones in our whiskey
or the ones at the poles? At the polls, we vote
to fix it, and when nobody does, they say to try
again. So, we scream because nobody tries,
and they tell us to vote again. We don’t think
they want to try. Again. They want us to think
they’ll try. They want us to chill, but the ice
is melting and flooding as the temperature rises.
We raise a glass to the world but in our whiskey,
the ice is melting. Disappearing like hope leaving
Pandora’s box, like hope leaving every ballot box.
Nothing gets fixed. We’re neutered as we wait. We feel
the weight of the world like Atlas. Staring at maps,
wondering what will be underwater, we’re wet
from sweat. We swear. We scream. They tell us
to vote, again, because they want us to be cool.
But the temperature rises, and our fires are burning.
Which ice melts faster? Again. Which ice melts faster?
Everett Cruz is a multicultural Filipino-American living and teaching in Denton, Texas. His writing has recently been published in Five South, Resurrection Magazine, the climate change anthology Dear Human at the Edge of Time, and is forthcoming in Quarter After Eight.
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