Coral Reefs

We flew to San Salvador, eastern-most island
of the Bahamas, to dive in clear waters, where grouper
followed us like huge puppies. We traversed the wall
of a coral reef to sixty feet deep, descended slowly,
remembering to exhale, not hold our breaths, one eye
on our pressure gauges. Staghorn, brain, gorgonian ferns—
bright red and orange corals, where angelfish waited for us
in pairs, clownfish, big toothed parrotfish we could hear
munching on corals. Triggerfish nibbled our gloves.
More than thirty years ago, before the first bleaching.

Now comes the third. Tropical reefs lose their color, die,
taking the ecosystem of plankton and fish with them
into the realm of dodo birds, dinosaurs, and giant
sloths. Amid the Sixth Extinction, yet we go on. Blind,
we drink our coffee, read email, watch reality TV,
which speaks nothing of the reality of pelagic plastic.
The Great Ocean Garbage patch is growing, already
twice the size of the United States. In the news, another
cargo ship down in rough seas one thousand feet deep.
Thirty-three crew sleep forever. Blame the weather. 
 

Everything is Drying

T-shirts on a rack in the laundry room,
dishes and my pasta pot on the drainboard,
book spines crack next to the woodstove,
except when they mold in summer humidity.

My skin is flaky, crepey, and cracked,
my nose sore all winter. Prolonged drought
out west, sandy land where there was once
a marina. Lakebeds’ clay bottoms,

submerged cars revealed. Inside, the bones
of a woman missing forty years. The earth
is cracked, not crying. In Haiti, Tropical Storm
Grace dumps two feet of rain after another

earthquake. They wait for drying. Houses broken,
soaked, an anger stoked. The Colorado
River will soon be dry. Our world turns
and burns. It’s trying to throw us off.

In the distance, sirens and a wailing dog.
A weather alert warns of dense fog.

Joan Mazza has worked as a microbiologist and psychotherapist, and taught workshops on understanding dreams and nightmares. She is the author of six books, including Dreaming Your Real Self, and her poetry has appeared in The Comstock Review, Prairie Schooner, Poet Lore, Slant, and The Nation. She lives in rural central Virginia and writes every day.