Stunning how the microplastics
catch the light as they float
in this glass of water
that I just took from the faucet,

how they spin in suspension.
I may yet drink it anyway.
It seems that I have little choice
if I’m to quench my thirst.

It doesn’t seem fair
that this has been done to us all
with only our implicit consent
by way of our consumption.

It doesn’t seem right
that the pollution, from 
what’s in the tap water glass
to the red in the sky at sunset,

is pretty enough sometimes
to distract us from fear
and disgust at what
we’ve made of this place.

Still, I’m thirsty,
and so I suck down
the glass full of poison gems,
this acknowledgement of guilt.