It
all
starts
on
Ivan Pagonov’s
first photo
in the plastic, blue frame
in the boy’s room.
The sequel of plastic melting
in every town and city,
in the hidden resorts,
in every village,
in the countryside,
on the bottom of the rivers,
the lakes,
the seas,
the oceans.
Bubbles pop out of the soil,
a century of manufacturing revealed,
eighty percent of every household
in the streets,
a magnificent stream
of unnatural colours
running faster than
the water flood galloping
from the boiling Poles.
All the plastic of the globe
heading to that boy’s room,
[is it a gateway to the sky? ]
to plasticize the stratosphere,
[to replace the useless ozone? ]
to cut off the sun,

[to rebuild the ice? ]
Is Ivan cooperating
on his own
means,
at
last?

Christos Rodoulla Tsiailis

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/7-ivan-pagonov-in-global-meltdown-screwing-earth/