coughing up plastic
seething with the relentless waste
of pointless destruction
and industrial poison

she waits

there is no pain
no sadness
for what has already been
and lost

there is no fury
only the inevitable bitterness
from this new flavor
of detritus

those that would pay homage
may weep
and wail in her stead
lay beaten

ground down by her patience
particularized by her power
like the remnants of mountains
now populating her periphery

this too will end
this too will change
and it is she
that has the time

all the time