Ken Wheatcroft-Pardue: “Global Warming”

I’m like the moon,
orbiting you,
a prisoner of your gravity.

I  slowly circle your equator.
Brush against your lush tropics.
Finger the wetness of your Panama Canal.

Then curl around the swollen belly of your Africa,
until I wake to nuzzle
in the moist forgetfulness of your Pacific Trough.

My tongue flits,
exploring every inlet,
every cove.

My mission: to warm you
pole to pole, to melt your glacier,
your deep, your hidden icebergs.

To free you from your Fortress of Solitude,
your do-it-yourself cloister. To free you
from your enemy: your too, too reticent self.

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