dad smokes outside West Ridge cafe/ friday nights at ten/ after coffee, two creams no sugar/ shelf burritos and twizzler sticks/ gone hard and cold at our corner table
My legs are covered in that thin film of dirt, left over from lying in the grass,/ And from staring at the parts of the trees that vanish when the air becomes callous, no longer sweet and wet fire.
This poetry collection was created in response to the focus on ecocide—the destruction of natural environments due to human (in)actions—as a primarily dramatized experience.