by Peter Notehelfer
Artist Unknown

Artist Unknown

It started

in the tributaries

of the great long rivers

Exactly when I don’t know 

Started in the tip of the tiny

little finger of a brook

where of a sudden

a fish died

No one

saw or cared

What is one little fish?

It must have eaten something!

Not until they heard of others

in streams far removed

did anyone take note

too late

They die

everywhere now

not because they are sick

but because the water is bad

Tainted it is by snow & rain

weighted with the sins

of the century

of self

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