Poems by Timothy Pilgrim

To Exxon

by Timothy Pilgrim

From Canary Winter 2014-15

Timothy lives in the far northwest corner of the United States -- the Strait of Georgia Watershed -- at Bellingham, Washington.

You brought new meaning
to robber baron,
taught us how to stare
cold as breath on Tundra,
to pump frozen sod primed with promises
even Arctic fox knew
were lies. Your sleek mukluks
gave you away. Told us
pipeline, tankers,
your attorneys slapping our backs in bars,
buying free drinks,
offering prosperity,
sadness
even glaciers couldn't scrub
away. We followed
your flowing tracks,
our backs to the rising sun,
itself giving way to night.
We tromped black ice,
piled oily otters, seals, terns
cheek-high. Set them ablaze,
watched the pyre
outshine frosty dusk.
Our breath froze white
on the darkened beach. That night
we burned ice to stay warm.
Timothy Pilgrim

First published by Trestle Creek Review