If Oil Is Drilled in Bristol Bay

Why is it, in Bristol Bay, a sea cormorant hovers, sings a two-fold song with a hinged cover for a mouth, teeth set in sockets, with a hissing grind of spikelets biting the air? Dip one. The lips of vanished flames in lava coals glow vermillion as an egg cracks. Dip two. She/I feel/s a chimera leaving the eider duck. Dip three. While still in the embryo, separating the body from death she/I smell/s of arsenic, the Chugach Range in unnatural bitterness. Why is it, man’s/woman’s nerve scarcely stifled and sane, comes to prey? While they swoon minerals of crude oil and sea spiders for tricking a way for gold. Will they crawl around her/me, sink their eyeteeth in the sea, ravaging the ecosphere and the ore gold for fuel. Drill.