Mark Meyer

Hazmat

A dead crow decomposes under the blue spruce. The noonday sky’s a mauve-gray miasma, drifting from the nearby mountain wildfires. I’ve closed all the windows to shut out the smoke, but the new washing machine in the utility room is still off-gassing some exotic, no-doubt carcinogenic hydrocarbons. I see there’s been another recall of Listeria-tainted lettuce, a raw sewage spill in Lake Washington, and the swimming beaches are closed again for a toxic algal bloom. Even fewer bees have visited the sage and lavender this summer. The spiderwebs appear so haphazardly woven. 

blotched sun —
the forlorn wail
of tribal elders

---

About the Author

Mark Meyer is an artist, writer, former research biologist, originally from Texas, currently living in the middle of a lake in Washington state. He enjoys a great fondness for dogs, guitars, and elixirs. His artwork and poetry have somehow managed to get around here and there. He’s even picked up a few awards along the way.