It begins
With the numerology of a new year,
All those 1’s and 0’s,
A virtual code for the
Age of technology
And tsunamis.

Crunchy grasscicles
Grab my ears with a bite,
Jaws of icy teeth
Frozen in place by the
Wayward winter.

My ocean is dying,
Frosty breath betrayed
By the sapiens sent
To glide over her topside,
The orcas’ decline
Less and less important
Than pipes and road trips.

I stand guilty on my porch,
Waiting for the sea lions’ roar
But hearing only horns,
Cigarette butts and dog shit
In the yard,
My car parked idly by.

There should be magic
In the slender height
Of all that solitude,
But the segregation we’ve realized
At 010111,
Decimal 23,
It just leaves too much
Out in the cold,
All those 1’s and 0’s,
A binary code
For an illusory world
Where water has lost its sole.

01/01/2011

Author's Note: I really want to just BE this year. That's all.

Posted on 01/01/2011
Copyright © 2026 Alison McKenzie