Emily Khym

What it takes to make nature cry

Slithering slimeballs
Green UFOs
Scavenging algae

The crisp air
Swept over
The drowsy
As ants marched
in and out
Of the tiled dock.

Green balls of slime
Danced to the tune
Of the salty breeze,
And pushing each other.

Fish suffocated
Under the oxygen-deficient waters
And people
Stared in
At their
                   Reckless artwork.

Here in the Blue Pond

As my face frosts
To the march of the snow,
I look into the blue
Unsure of my decisions.

Memories skipped around
Of the 2-foot-tall snowman
That I named Blue;

Its prominent, orange nose
That juts out
Like a sore thumb
Or its fragile hands,
The length of a teacup,
Shine through
My single teardrop.

Figures pass by,
While I remain
On this tear-stained bench,
As if a photographer
Is about to capture me
Sitting through a motion blur.

I sit tall and proud.
Yet, my mind cries
Of the infinite actions.

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