In Geneva, the international tally of endangered species, kept up to date in looseleaf volumes, is becoming too heavy to lift. Deep in our mother ocean where once I swam, gilled and finned. The salt from those early seas still runs in my tears.
Tears are too meager now.
Ooze me, alligator, in the mud whence I came. Belly me slow in the rich primordial soup, cradle of our molecules. Let me wallow again, before we drain your swamp, before we pave it over and blast it to ash. Audouin's seagull Quick, lift off. Sweep me high over the coast and out, farther out.