There used to be enough of me
to drown all this pollution.
Now the ratio of me to filth
is too weak for dilution.

A single drop in each brown eye
forms stagnant pools, dark shallow seas.
Slick greasiness between my toes
is rising slowly toward my knees.

Splinters, wrappers, copper wire,
styrofoam and paper cups,
sneakers, speakers, shards of glass
from muddy depths come bubbling up.

I’m brimming full of chemicals -
a stinging, burning pool of filth,
and near the surface do now float
the carcasses of things I killed.