Rent

As winter’s incisors latched onto my face
I wondered while leaving my car
how anything lives in the vacuum of space
and yet (as you know) here we are
our planet’s interior seethes with a fire
that kindles a massive array
of needy creations that long to respire,
with no inclination to pay;
inside our iridescent shell
the pressure mounts as numbers swell
with more cheap labor doomed for hell,
they harvest less with every crop
and water? Savor every drop
for soon we’ll hear a telling –pop-.