Sitting by the pond
watching how perfectly made
the frog is for moving
between land and water,
even air, as it leaps
to escape my daughter,
I understand we are ill built
for living, our bodies
made for nothing
without destroying
what we touch.
Hands like mine
turned valleys
into lakes
mountains into rubble
and prairies
into dust bowls,
yet we smash atoms
into each other
trying to find god.
In Taiji they harvest
two thousand dolphins
for the annual festival.
It’s no wonder
we invent language
like domestic violence
or hate speech
when even something
as lovely as a feast
has to begin
with a slaughter.