Carbon Pool Party Killjoy

a drone captures photographs of the marsh,
   its soft curves & swells, the map of it,
    how its plants island together, save a rivulet,
                 the way the sun’s position in the sky
              changes the landscape’s colors. the water’s surface is
                                                               sensitive to even the carefulest scientists’
                                                               boots, so they work from boardwalks,
                                                               measuring the change in surface elevation
             over time. (spoiler alert: the land gives way to sea.
          someone says, a football field of Louisiana
       is lost every day—someone else says, every
        hour.) while they track & measure,
     the egrets & herons go about their business,
   turtles & snakes smile because their faces
don’t allow them other expressions. if they knew
   in their skins & shells, feathers & flights,
     the sins of our two-legged species,
       would they sabotage the few of us
        they come across in service to each other, in service
    to the greater good of their planet? we’ll offer,
  as recompense to the devastation our kind
    has caused, to build them a palace of sticks, to bake
      a carbon-dioxide cake with all those sugars the plants
        are busy making. or maybe we could convince them
to conspire against the monied boats parked at Port Fourchon,
             explaining how our small motored boat is here
to gather research that could help protect their habitat,
             for at least as long as we can, but the Jack & Ms. Lily &
other oceangoing vessels headed offshore—they
                                                   would make a truer enemy.