If I were doing my laundry I'd wash my dirty air.
I'd throw in New York City, and scrub-a-dub-dub
until the vandalism and graffiti were no more.
I'd draw my murky waters for the Mississip' and the
Pacific and give them a thorough scouring
before refilling them to the brim with sapphire
Then I'd fetch my needle and spool and mend my poor
Hang the birds of my Brazilian rain forests out to
dry in their homes, allow those beautiful greens
to stay forever.
And set the poverty that is Africa's in the dryer
until it all wilts away into oblivion, never again
to harm my perfect world.
This piece has been published in Teen Ink’s monthly print magazine.