PLUME… Remembering Monsanto & Dow

A Poem by Stefanie Bennett

I have aged by my crying river where the water-weed
Harbours a sodden almanac.
In this hemisphere the rain
Tendrils red
Upon a parched heart; its shape
Abstruse –, a dropped star.

Well recounted is the quest of ‘the other’. Pacing out
Endurance Road, Wolf-song Woman
Wrote her dust epigraphs
On the boots of fishermen –,
The silver-forks of Dame Fortune’s
High fliers in repose.

From Quebec to Armenia. Bombay. Sydney-town…
She unravelled the dialects:
Strung them lowly
To be mystically
Arpeggioed by diverse
Adepts of the ‘mouth-bow’.

And how rich was the sowing of the Spirit fruit!
Each yield a hoop
Of plenty. Both
Huntress and gatherer, net offerings
Graced the guilded halls
Of ‘poeticised’ pogrom.

How many climbed aboard that bronze saddle
She’ll not say.

What loss flash-flooded the verdant oasis –, self
Destruct? Premonition?

To this day the ‘seven living sins’ continue
Their vigil…

Indigo is the tranquil sleep-walker harnessed
To the crying river –;
Vermilion the sickle moon.
Ash, the oration
In any tone.
The fable! Colourless:

… Pigment it gone.

[Monsanto & Dow – compensate all victims]

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