Praise to the oxygen producers! Those underwater ropes
tossed and tangled in the gyres. Up, up to the second sky
and wriggling about, housing the sea lions and whales 
against the teeth and pounding storms. But, oh, how

can praise be expressed in a tongue foreign to you! Plants
don’t speak, barely see… And humans only know babble,
shopping malls and friction heat. We mangle your chlorophyll,
believe it’s love. Green envy, our green insecurity,

Humans should’ve stopped talking and kept to the two-step:
Simple shuffles and you, kelp, would’ve understood this as love.
Instead, we’re all concrete and chlorine. Stock stiff. Rigid. 
We forgot how to hold your hands; but even that…selfish me.