The agreement takes place
between the host—a location—
and a business that leaves
mercury and lead, perhaps,
the agreement preceding
the construction
of a factory. A set sum
and a guess of what will
happen when the plant opens
are accepted. One host,
my old home, agreed
to “no visible plumes”
but got three. On a clear day—
or not—the business sees
profits. The host cannot see
beyond, for most, want.
The plant makes electricity
from gas. Having no energy
to fight, I left. Running on
fumes means being outraged
always. I stopped
where magnolia blooms.
Myrtle blossoms like lilac—
or a prim translation
of bobbing branches,
too thin and wild, warning
of the approaching storm.
