Starward Flung Spears

Starward flung spears fall
un-noticed into the sea.
Salt water fizz subsides
into dark, polluted brooding.
We think of escape
to planets red or dead moons.
The tides are stopping,
choked by carbon-chained molecules:
we dream, we dream, and God laughs
thunder and cries floods of acid tears
until we leave no more behind us
than Ozymandias, King of Things.
Look on our waste ye foolish and despair