Here's some wonderful new work from writing group regular Moira Coupe...
Plastic Paradise
When your dad is an Industrial Chemist,
High Density Polyethylene, pass the milk,
Polypropylene, why did I ask for yogurt,
Urethane, Polystyrene and PVC,
are everyday terms.
Dad taps open his egg, trying not to spill yolk
on the Bakelite eggcup his mother gave him.
He reads and marvels out loud at the contents
of the Polyunsaturated fat he puts on his toast.
Yawning, I search for the repeat pattern in our Formica tabletop.
Finally excused, I run into my future, 50 years away.
Ethereal in late winter sun, a blue planter sings to me.
Mesmerised, I watch branch shadows scud across its surface,
and, with my finger, trace a Celtic design embossed on its rim.
Yesterday, I counted at least 83 plastic flowerpots in my garden.
In 3 months, this plastic embarrassment will be covered by
Primroses, Petunias and Forget-me- nots.
Look now and see my need for lightweight flowerpots.
Look now and see my contribution to planet destruction.
Look now and see my tribute to dad, to human invention.
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