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By Taylor Franson-Thiel

 

Spiral Jetty — around my ankle — yank me nose to — saltwater — bent
clockwise toward the sun — the Earth says — lay wound upon wound — and
the man who made — the Jetty did just that— maybe there’s a kind of mercy
— in extinction — if it means — you can’t be — hunted — anymore — maybe
there is justice — in it too — when mankind is drowned — by his own angry
spit — in earth empty of kinder life — water will not save us — stone will not
forgive — but they will outlast — extremophiles spinning in — once glacier
— and the sun — returning the Spiral to salt crystal sand — inland deserts
easily set to become beach — I grieve earth already — I scour the men who
will — take her from me — the mercy is — they will not drown — in rising
water — the justice is — they will never see — what may come next — the
man who made the Jetty — plucked saltrock from where it lay — spiraled it
— said of his creation — let it erode let nature do what it wants who
are we to stand in its way?

Taylor Franson-Thiel is the author of Bone Valley Hymnal (ELJ Editions 2025). She is a developmental and editorial coordinator for Poetry Daily, the assistant poetry editor for phoebe and the editor-in-chief of BRAWL. She can be found at @TaylorFranson on Twitter (currently known as X), @taylorfthiel on Instagram, @taylorfthiel.bsky.social on BlueSky, and at taylorfranson-thiel.com.