And according to 
the stranger first ice sheets will thaw
sea levels will 
rise you read the stranger said to 
heights unheard of 
shores will smother previous neighbors no one 
will weather well 
the earth’s peevish heat will increase                       air 
itself septic                                 streets 
bridges unbearable the old ready routes—routes 
of childhood—routes 
of recall—now a dream unnavigable                       What 
was the way 
you once would take to call on 
the one you 
loved which way did it begin again 
it’s gone                         awe 
intact perhaps but face it the stranger 
said we’re going 
to need new ideas you read we’re 
going to need 
new tactics                         strategies for endurance don’t ruminate 
on sinkholes water 
supplies toxins massive unknowable truly undivinable fractures 
in the brittle 
tectonic masses                       Oh delicate underworld                       Oh green 
child                       You once 
played orphanage                    What is this game and 
did you play 
it—it’s orphanage and you would peacefully
envision—Oh grimy 
child—that everyone you knew thus far 
at this small 
age was dead—what’s dead—mourn your 
parents—sweet warm 
parents—taste the soil and then pretend 
to live for 
hours on some foggy Saturday morning subsist 
on twigs carrots 
chives rhubarb from the garden                    then braid