This is a Poem About a 24-pack of Aquafina Water Bottles
by Hallie Chametzky

This is all it is
simply
without, as they say, a catch

This is not a poem about Monroe Park
which sits
conveniently
a few hundred feet away from the 24-packs of Aquafina water bottles
close enough that one could hold a gulp in one’s mouth
during the walk
and release the gulp
(which has, did you know, undergone a 7-step purification system)
onto the feet of the bench dwellers
who have finally found shade here
if not a working water fountain
No,
This is not a poem about this park
because it will be gutted and stuffed and mounted on the wall soon
turned into a 6.2 million dollar dust pan
which will brush up the bench people
and the Aquafina water bottles at their feet

This is also, surely, not a poem about the James River
a river in Virginia
a state where one quarter of rivers
churn a grayish-green
dyed with coal-ash wastewater
and often with
plastic water bottles fallen from the springy netting
on young, bouncing backpacks
photodegrading
absorbing packets of toxic time bombs
waiting to be carried out to sea where
46,000 of their brothers and sisters wait
in every square mile
But this is not a poem about 20 percent of Aquafina water bottles
which live a new life
or the 80 percent which do not

This is not a poem about Flint, Michigan
where months after the water was deemed unsafe for car engines
it was deemed safe for people
This is still not a poem about Flint, Michigan
Where the government smiled and shook its head
(which has, did you know, undergone a 7-step purification system)
and promised
Over and over again this is not a poem about Flint, Michigan

This is not a poem about
783 million people
who may or may not have safe drinking water
or about climate change
or about imperialism
or capitalism
or any ism at all

This is a poem about a 24-pack of Aquafina water bottles
which are
as they say
free of cost