Art saves nothing

and this is not art

just words running

in lines, hoping to reach

redemption. Meanwhile

time is running                out
for bat and bee,

hippo and elephant.

Coral reefs are dying. Salmon,

once wild, breed in tubs.

Don't put your hope in poems
that plot the putrid doings

of bankers, that bank

on Franz Marc's red horses

gamboling and grazing,

as if we'd never learned

to fabricate glue from hooves.