A Climate Guilt Poem: Packages

Some nights I unwrap my life.

My new Amazon package is fun to tear.

I don’t get why water is bottled for sale. It’s flowing right outside my door.

Since last night or before

I’ve eaten the pears picked from a tree

Pumped with chemicals and shipped in shiny just for me.

If you are what you eat then I’m trash.

Plastic. Synthetic. Bitter and bloated.

But wait, my package has arrived.

Watch me discard the emptiness into a pile

And not even flinch.