A Letter To Cleveland

I am not a catch.  I'm not a piece of fish.

I'm not a Dolphin even, nor can you

wrap any net around me in your mind

nor span the breadth of my experience

with any book of yours

nor any man's imagination grasp

the breath

that runneth all along

my coral spine.

I'm here.  I haven't died and yet

I'm not offended by your grieving articles

announcing that my ghost has left.

In fact I've wondered in the past

how it might feel to hear my death scroll

on your human lips.

I heard this rumor and it made me think.

Just yesterday it seemed like I was fine.

How long have I been growing here?

Twenty thousand pulling five times five.

And how the thing that hurt me most at first

was how you drilled into my body for my oil.

I let you do it though.  How could I not?

There's oil there.

It's just the memory and residue

of so many millions of years

of life on earth.

I wanted to say something to Cleveland at least.

I'll say these last lines now and make it brief:

Take it from me, The Great Barrier Reef.

Welcome humans, to a world of grief.

Ralph Hutchison is a baker at the Root Cafe who loves Lakewood and whose specialization is gluten-free engineering. Ralph stands for "Modern Algorithms running on Vintage Acoustic Media".

Ralph Hutchison

Ralph Hutchison is a baker at the Root Cafe who loves Lakewood and whose specialization is gluten-free engineering. Ralph stands for "Modern Algorithms running on Vintage Acoustic Media".

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Volume 18, Issue 12, Posted 12:51 PM, 06.15.2022