I was angry at our mother,
I was blanketed in shame,
And I tried to call out to her,

And I tried to hear my name
In her silences and shadow,
In the patience of her heart,

But I only found the ugliness,
And now the ruptures start.
Oil, oil, oil, oil,
Burning without ash:
I was angry at my planet
And I smothered it with trash.

Oil, oil, oil, oil,
Roiling brown and slow
Through the womb of our mother.
No.
No.
No.