Water Planet

By Taisha Ostler

Box springs and lampshades float
through Marshall Islands, snatched by mounting tides.
Rising oceans slowly swallow
lives built upon remnants of tested ground.

I am far removed.

I wander a desert plain.
With precipitation measured in flakes,
There is no water rising here.
Here, in this valley of ancient salt and lake
Water dissipates;
Into too many dry lawns,
Too many parched throats.


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