Visions in the Water

 The things that will wash up on your block

had species, phyla, names if you want,

but they won't look like

anything they were supposed to.

Unrecorded, their offspring dissolved, 

the last of their kind

swept off the fifth step from the bottom

of your bungalow, 

advertised as two miles from the beach.

Extinction will have

a street name and address

but not a marker. I guess you might 

watch extinction from the second floor

and still not grasp its reach

as you dip your oar in the water

to get eggs laid

in air condition--

guaranteed not spoiled today.

You will know by then it wasn't always the way--

but still not understand

why the vista of the ocean shames

you now, fearing

you will see in it a vision

of what washes up next.