Collateral Damage
“WORKERS AT A STATE-OF-THE-ART SOLAR PLANT IN THE MOJAVE DESERT
HAVE A NAME FOR BIRDS THAT FLY THROUGH THE PLANT'S CONCENTRATED
SUN RAYS—‘STREAMERS,’ FOR THE SMOKE PLUME THAT COMES FROM
BIRDS THAT IGNITE IN MIDAIR” —Christian Science Monitor
I caught this morning, mourning, sight
of you who flew into sky
you thought your own
and caught the sun down
to the marrow bones, tender embers
scorched there, sputter-guttered there,
your far-flung flair undone mid-air,
tailspin, trailspin of plummeting
ash—
oh, flame on, you seared ones,
dear ones, take us by the heart,
let your blackened, blown feathers
fan our rage, outrage us,
engage
our careworn, too careless, caring.