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And these are the islands, tiny
On the broad bright blue canvas of tropical seas.
And these are the great white wheels spinning like tops,
Swallowing mountains as the sea swallows rocks,
Swallowing churches and children and trees,
Swallowing islands like tiny green drops
With their warehouses, schoolhouses, dollhouses, shops,
With their dreams and intentions and sweet fantasies,
All smashed by the great white wheels spinning like tops
That gorge on the profits of energy stocks
And the fumes of our lust for convenience and ease,
Heedless of islands like tiny green drops
And the people who live on them tending their crops
Or working in offices, homes, factories,
Devoured by monsters spinning like tops
In a line of disasters no tragedy stops
Despite the raw poignance of powerless pleas …
And these are the islands, tiny green drops.
And these are the great white wheels spinning like
Copyright by Nicholas Gordon