For the Sonorous
Break Up Letter from Earth to humans
humans,
Don’t try to call me. I’ve changed my number. I’m at the end of my golden starlight ever-patient rope. We started out okay when you were all wheels and fire and caves, but you turned on me, gave all the glory to yourselves. Took everything. Wastelanded me. It’s like the wheel you made turned into a drive to roll me over and over, and I am so done with you.
Didn’t your mothers teach you how to treat the sacred? Don’t touch me there. My body is not yours to proclaim. My bounty is not the wilderness you shame. You’ve stuck so many flags in my skin, I am a pincushion of defeat, but you will not win. I am here to outlast. Was here long before and will remain after your remains just become the empty dust hollowed of your destructive pathways ingrained. I said, don’t touch me there.
Look at all that I gave you! Every tiny chirp to mountain song. Those are my trees you plow down, my sky you choke with smoke, my rivers you poison with your industrial waste, my oceans, oh not my oceans too… my god, how I have cried over all you people do. I am just so tired. I am just so damn tired. Get your things, you hear? We are through! Once and for all, I declare I won’t do this anymore! I won’t stand here and wait for this slow murder to claim me. You are a blink in my history, and you will not win. You have left me with almost nothing, but it is in my every fiber to regenerate. I am so sick now, but YOU are the disease that ravages me.
Oh, the humanity! Don’t you see what that phrase means? Couldn’t you see the signs? You don’t think you are killing me? You can’t feel me warming up and melting and drowning all at once? My atmosphere is a silk dress of pure fire, and you can’t tell that I am burning? That’s it. I won’t even explain this shit to you anymore. We are so done. Get out. Give me my keys back. Give me my beautiful mysteries back. Give me back the secrets you stole and the lands that you destroyed in your petty blood-filled search for salvation. You will no longer stain me red with your wars.
No, I won’t wait. I don’t care where you go, but you can’t stay here. I called the other planets. They don’t want you either. Even Pluto, so distant and sweet, he tried to warn me eons ago. Venus and her backwards spin, she just watched her sister get more broken and more broken. You better watch out! They ALL know you did this. You wonder why my constant moon watches you! There is really nowhere you can hide. I will not become fire and ash and forgetting.
Your neglect and foolishness has cost you the best thing that’s ever happened to your sorry excuse for a species. Yeah, I know not all of you are bad. But there are enough rotten apples that the barrel is broken, and you won’t even have lifetimes to look back and ruminate on how you could have done better. Extinction brinks but you will not take me down with your sinking ship. Keep your greed and your infantile politics and your evil men. Drag down all the good ever done, while another one of my icebergs falls from this chip you have made on my cold shoulders. Look what you have done to me. I was once the Beauty of the solar system, eternal life source in the goldilocks zone, but now I can’t bear another Earth Day of your empty promises. You have played out your karma here long enough. Get out. Get off. We’re done. You never really loved me anyway.
- Earth
Kai Coggin is a queer Filipino-American poet living in the valley of a small mountain in Hot Springs National Park, AR. She received her BA in English, Poetry, and Creative Writing from Texas A&M University. Her work has been published or is forthcoming in Assaracus, Blue Heron Review, Lavender Review, Yellow Chair Review, and elsewhere.
Kai is the author of PERISCOPE HEART (2014) and WINGSPAN (2016), as well as a spoken word album called SILHOUETTE (2017). Her poetry has been nominated twice for The Pushcart Prize, as well as Bettering American Poetry 2015, and Best of the Net 2016. www.kaicoggin.com