The earth sighed seven times.

The first morning she heaved – oceans of garbage flooded beaches like tourists, never resting until the seas were emptied of every human relic ever tossed off a ship, every wine cork long forgotten after empty smiles and shallow promises, every distorted piece of plastic that brought momentary ease, fleeting joy, or a bit of convenience- then she sighed.

My dog barked seven times that day. No more, no less.

I hoped it was over, but then came the second morning. A guttural cough rumbled under my feet, and the world erupted. Every dormant volcano came alive with fire, and steam, and spirals of smoke. The seas began to boil and rage and roar, and then I feared it was the end. But it wasn’t. The earth sighed a second time.

My dog barked six times that day. No more, no less.

The third morning, the earth burbled and burped until every human corpse was lifted from its resting place. On land, they rolled out of the ground onto perfectly landscaped yards and gardens and ruined the mood for many a party. This one felt personal. My old dog was buried in the back. His resting place lay undisturbed while bloated bodies bobbed alongside buoys in oceans, and lakes, and rivers, and oh, what a stink! That night she sighed again, and I thought I heard mirth in the sound of it.

Five barks from my dog that day. No more, no less.

The fourth morning the earth groaned and the ground ruptured and fractured – consuming governments, and swallowing civilizations, and splitting countries, and families, and even hairs. Well, I only guessed that last part. Then the earth sighed a fourth time.

My dog barked four times after I fetched her out of the rubble. No more, no less.

The fifth morning the earth sang – through warbling birds and whistling trees, through the bellows of whales and the humming of bees – and it was beautiful! The song was full of hope and new beginnings. But many could not hear her song, though the sound was deafening. Men cleaved to their old ways, licking honey from thorns that split their tongues and numbed their senses, and the poison – oh the poison! Millions died because of it, and it seeped back into the earth. That night the earth was silent. Perhaps she was thinking. The quiet unnerved me as I bolted my doors, listening for earth’s song but only hearing the sounds of booted men patrolling streets, and cocking guns, and shuttered blinds, and whirring blades from aircraft overhead. Finally, the earth sighed a weary sigh.

Three barks that night. Three damning barks. No more, no less.

I awoke the sixth morning with a start as the earth shrieked. I covered my ears, and my cheeks flushed with heat at the pain in her voice. Her cries were desperate. They were horrifying. They were accusing. And they were powerful. Earth’s protective ozone shattered, and my skin blistered and cracked under the heat of the sun. I barricaded myself in the cellar as the top of my roof melted away into nothing. As night fell, the earth sighed a sixth time.

My dog barked twice. No more, no less.

I knew the seventh morning was our last, for the earth laughed. It was bitter and full of sorrow. It summoned the heavens forward, and they came. Meteors, and floating ice, and blazing stars struck the earth so violently they sent chunks of her spinning, spinning everywhere. They ripped her clothes and tore her flesh, but her response was laughter. Crazed, terrifying laughter. And then she sighed. Our beautiful, broken earth sighed. One final, mournful, dreadful sigh.

My dog barked once that morning. Now she lay mute in my lap as I pet her. I know she has no more barks for me. I close my eyes and take one last breath.

No more, no less.

Attachment

No one else must hold this child,

to shut the windows and blinds,

for her, there is no light, only

the spreading of my palms

against her cheek

to ensure that

she is with

me.

The most precious to us are the

things easily, inadvertently abused,

how oblivious she was to the turn, to

the watering of the wrong root, how love

warped into something more malicious, to

grow into an angry, rebellious entity quietly

stewing, waiting until the moment was ripe.

Fear

No, you may not spend the weekend at your friend's house

No, you may not stay after school to work on your group project

No, you may not go to Denny's after prom - you are only a junior

No, you may not go to Denny's after prom - you are only a senior

No, you may not attend a school out of state - you cannot afford it

And so, the walls tumble in,

they say that the strictest parents

breed the best liars.

silent car ride, lonely skies

sheets of coldest, whitest lies

mourning city, early dawn

she ignores me, she drives on.

empty streets, where people stride

with arrogance and falsest pride

distant sun, awake, alive

she ignores me, on we drive.

she says she’ll come back for me

again, one day, or two, or three

holds my hand, her fist in mine

a taste of old, forgotten wine

from where she stepped back into then

and laid eyes on me not again

but I was back behind the bars

and dreamt away between the stars.

fool! I waited, wondered why

losing senses, mid-July.

find me someone there to love:

liberation way above.

find me, but I shan’t let go

lose again like long ago;

this time, I rule with iron fist

spoiled rotten, never kissed.

“do not leave me”, as I plead,

raging waves of washed-up greed.

I cry again, a child’s tears,

grieving for my lonely years

without fingers intertwined,

sightless world somehow gone blind.

just a beacon in the night

so long as she maintains her light.

Souls are like wells, dug, for water;

We pour of ourselves as we drink

Salt with fresh, estuaries, are briney

Brakish beverage; the brew of deceit

Snowmelt in springtime tastes sweet

Crystal creeks cascade, pure, down the mountains

Murky waters, sour, stagnating streams;

Unforgiveness blocks free-flowing fountains

Oceans, blue, bite bitter tongues

Open wounds, sharp salt water stings

But, a soul that tastes of divine;

Morning dew; heaven scent; refreshing