Poem 4/29/11

Handling Plastic

There's a floating island in the Pacific, made entirely of plastic. 
There are more gadgets and whooziwhats in my apartment 
than I care to admit: even now that we've downsized 
and taken the bold move of having only one car for two adults, 
and stopped the constant shopping trips that were a refuge
for this new mother. I am American and I have bought into our plastic
culture far too many times for comfort. Look around you, right now!
What do you see that isn't plastic, what do you touch that isn't destined
to end its life in the plastic floating island of some ocean or another, 
mistaken for jellyfish by an unlucky fish. 
..................................................................I do not want,
in my end, to be remembered only for contributing to this wasteland! 
I do not want the sum total of my days to be product placement 
and chunky pens. Bring me to my grave in a biodegrable shift. 
Let me sink into the Earth, let me decompose. Let me not end as plastic,
and let me help clear the piles before I go. Let me be the change, and see
it happen in my lifetime, or my child's, or his child's. Let astonishment
fill me with wonder for the turning. Let me walk under the sky, flesh and bone
without all this plastic pulling me me further into anesthetized sleep.