Poetry: Break of Day

The sea is unbroken and knitted to the sky.
Furnaces hedge the horizon in rows.
They are gray, sooty, black,
on fire, a sorcery of gas
touching oxygen, they are 
a broken ladder, a helix,
day breaks through their bodies,
makes beauty even
as their fingers
batter the sun.
Oil spill — oil spill.
They tear her up, martyred thing.
Mischievous ants burrowing 
into sand, and dirt
beneath the sea
they make a new
Jacob’s ladder of the earth.

This poem originally appeared in Page & Spine (2016)