NATURE Poem: Pangaea, and the Apex, by M. C. Caldwell

We’re dying of heat in a church in Australia,
pamphlets fan our faces.
A flower wilts through the space between our fingers,
and we walk by faith, not by sight, so
Guilty.

Well, we know the cashmere of time:
Antarctic kangaroos,
a rumble of the plates,
drinking a glass of lukewarm water, cold once,
but forgotten.

Author: poetryfest

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