A little cloud came in the open window
and hid from the rain.
If I stood up, my head
would be in that cloud.
It cowered from the thunder
and the clouds it used to fly with.
Thousands of pallets of water bottles fell—
sixteen point nine fluid ounces at a time.
I thought it impossible
that humans had placed that much plastic
in the oceans’ gyres
but the labels read Aqua Pacifica.
Once the storm subsided
the little cloud exited out the window
and left behind on my desk a single bottle
labeled Great Bay of Mexico.
copyright © 2022 Kenneth P. Gurney