Amazon Crime by Emily Sager

Read by Conner Arnold

you wince at Flames and
fire scratched down in a
thin glimpse of an old
tree, bleached
white, sliced, like Meat
on a sandwich.

mulling over the leaves
between your teeth as
words of Protest
cement to the roof
of your mouth and leave
the Basin bone dry.

chew and the truth cracks under
the weight of your molars,
like the trees we mowed down
for Juicy burgers
and pulled pork portions
pocketed for cash

underneath the embers lies
rotten truths gone bad from
deception, riddled with maggots,
and The Orange peels and punctured
time, diced doses of misplaced
funding and fundamentally
conceived notion that our hands
don’t Warm the globe.

all is solved though,
with a big heart and a little
one you Click
if you’re too far away.