Drill – Baby – Drill?
My heart is breaking today.
Greasy black fingers creep
Up the throat of the Mississippi Delta,
Strangling the life out of marshes and wetlands,
Choking grebes and otters,
Smothering shrimp, sea turtles, oyster bars and pelicans.
In the geopolitical war of oil and profit
Delta is collateral damage.
Leaning against the belly of a mangrove snapper,
Holding her organs in her hands
Her life forces leaching away,
Fading from blue and green to brown,
Vitality dying in the Mother’s lap.
Something of me is dying today.
Gary Blaine, May 1, 2010
Christopher
My son is home from the war in Afghanistan,
Having labored in foreign fields for the sins of the fathers of the
British Empire, Soviet expansionism, Saudi jihad,
and Americanized enterprise.
A one year tour squandered his
nationally guarded inheritance of
job training, college education, and
the chance to be all that he could be;
all for the cause of reconstituted warlords,
Birkhas, eleven year old brides, pipelines, and opium.
He will return home and gladly turn away from
MREs, sand, snow, blood, and fecal laden air.
We will grill the fatted calf,
baptize lobsters, exchange wedding rings, and file for V.A. benefits.
The last vigil lamp will burn out.
Maps and photos on the kitchen wall will finally come down.
Our family will hug and kiss and reminisce but
not too deeply for fear
he will never forget
the sons who were lost but never found.
© Gary Blaine – 2006
Church Potluck
She ate dinner tonight,
That was all that really mattered.
Never mind she snuck into the
Wednesday night Fellowship Dinner.
The pastor greeted her
Like he always had,
With a confused look on his face
As if he should know her name.
She ate dinner tonight,
That was all that really mattered.
Never mind that she could not remember
What it was she ate.
Gary Blaine, January 2011
A Few Haiku
1
their Christmas letter
was more than predictable
divorce in nine months
2
cars move across plains
once trammeled by buffalo
lost paths of red men
3
she has no inking
autumn’s twelve year old daughter
the spring of my heart
4
mucking chicken shit
spring’s necessary labor
summer tomatoes
5
two chubby people
kissing in the parking lot
who can guess fortune?
GaryBlaineMinistry 