the funny thing about climate change
Pittsburgh, PA
2022, Senior, Poetry & Spoken Word
Last night the ceiling fan creaked each time I almost fell asleep. I remember
the landlord saying this house is old, this foundation won’t hold
for much longer, dang it, gold is all we have; sand spills through the cracks. I imagine
soft pink crabs crawling through holes and into my hair, smelling
of the salt-sea wind. This morning Ma got stung by a jellyfish and screamed
so much bloody murder I thought I’d be the one in danger; turns out I was, and turns out jellyfish
stings don’t feel too good, because, at least mine don’t look as bad. The ceiling fan whirs
again, this is about the landlord again, isn’t it, I thought they fell asleep again, but they’re
arguing about money again, no one can sleep, not again, not in in this house. Outside, the
wind combs through the silhouette of a sliver-moon and the sea ripples in dark blue
breaths, and I feel as if I am drowning. I imagine the same pink crabs turning into sand
scorpions once this beach
becomes a desert, it won’t be long anyways. I should really go to sleep, but the moon is so
round and bright it’s like it’s on fire, and I can’t get tired looking at it. It’s all coming back
now, how the water wasn’t supposed to rise like that now, beyond the tideline but it just did,
and they said it’s making the ground porous, like a massive wet sponge waiting to give out
from underneath the house, singing in chorus: take them down. The crabs have to come
closer to shore now that half their world is Atlantis, and it’s been two nights now that it’s too
hot and too humid to do
anything but sulk. Jellyfish breed in warm water brimming with toxins, sting, and
hurry away, white linens flap in a breeze and I try not to think
of being set on fire but it’s hard, we’re all liars, burning at the stake (but this time
we’re really witches), witches that wield flames to set the sea on fire. I would hope
the salt remaining tastes good, but apparently it would still catch on fire.
Reflection
Reflection
I find that there is some degree of irony in how obvious global warming issues have made themselves clear; yet, how so many of us either choose to stay in the bliss that ignorance brings, or refuse to act altogether. I only hope that this piece of my writing may act as a semi-humorous, semi-ironic warning to our society, and our world at large, reflected through the dry, sarcastic tone of the narrator. Through it, I hope also to address the fact that climate change poses an existential threat—not only to our planet and its plant and animal species, but to us as well.