An Oil Spill poem

Obscene Allure

Deluges in brash clouds,
storm brewing beneath seas.

It’s beautiful, or would be,
if the tiger cat orange/black mushroom cloud
sent to my computer via PBS
wasn’t spewing pollution into the Gulf.

Beached oil isn’t nearly as attractive,
resembling in consistency and hue of severe diarrhea,
running into volunteers blue latex gloves.

Poet wishes she could merely ponder
elegance of accidental tragedy
without dwelling on effects
to wildlife, fisheries, and planet.
However, she knows this
to be impossible.