Poem about the Environment

I have written the awful poem to rescue nature, 
a poem that starts: Alaska’s melting. 

The poem walks like a toddler wielding an axe.

It exaggerates. After which our houses will burn.

The poem becomes a stunt woman, changing shapes 
and definitions. It wants to be all things to all 
people. It becomes an ancient seeing-eye dog, 
trembling and sniffing the methane we can’t ever 
call back, methane that escapes the permafrost.

                  Are you listening yet? 
the poem asks. By the time we see 
it’s personal, we’ll be doomed.

Attention, the poem calls. Attention.

The poem wants to be a book of safety matches. 
Drag your match across its gritty strip: a blaze of worry 
leaps in you, but not enough to stop a forest fire.

The poem is all faithfulness. It believes 
in miracles, the budding of a lily in the human heart, 
the mountain moved, one spoonful at a time.