THE BLACK DEATH
(The Curse of the Exxon Valdez)

Not a bomb nor explosive sound;
no rending of the earth's crust,
nor shredding of the canopy of heaven.
But only a dull thud, a crunching of metal,
and a slow, silent death—
an oozing, oily, slippery death
with no loud shrieks of pain
nor rage of battle tumult.

The mournful cry of a heron goes unheard
as she sinks beneath the blackened waves.
The seals cry
for the quick bludgeoning death of hunters' clubs
rather than the slow agony of the poisoned sea.
The sea eagle picks congealed petrol from her breast
but has no appetite for these deadly berries.

It is not a noble death
like a king upon a scaffold
who speaks to the world.
The black death comes at the hands
of a besotted executioner,
and we hear only
the whimpering cries of the innocent—
creatures of earth, sky, and sea
who have no voice,
but who, in the end, will
speak their judgment
upon the human blight.


--Harry L. Serio
May 5, 1989