A poem about Earth, using plenty of personification, of course.
She was born with the snow swaddling her skin
The iceberg caps used to tickle her ribs
Before the sheets stopped swaying from clotheslines and
Before the smoke danced with the wind.
Ships with names and some without circled in her chest
Pine trees hugged her arms and leaned against the wind
There were charcoal-smudge birds, talking as they flew
Like ghosts at attention, on her scalp tall flowers grew.
Machines and buildings stand at her neck
People dig under her skin just to see what’s left
Her eyes are lined with soot, and our ashes and our tar
There used to be beauty that existed where we are.