The trash patch did not break us up. The trash patch (or vortex, I should say; it isn’t stationary, it is not an island) did not poison the way I look at you or turn your words to stinging flies. We did not get physical; we did not even throw anything. There is a whole toxic ecosystem built around the microscopic plastic particles—a spread of microorganisms feed on the waste. You live on the other side of the gulf. One potential lie is that the bacteria clean it up. One potential lie is that they spread the poisons. One definite lie is that the trash patch is okay. When the medical examiner cuts me open, my stomach will be full of soda rings, plastic threads, and shopping bags, and I will have starved to death. I don’t want to spread the poison. Let the mess stop here with me and you. It is time to call it. One lie about the pacific garbage patch is that it is the only garbage patch in our oceans. It is not. At 5,000 square kilometers, it is simply the biggest.
Author: Emily Alta Hockaday
Emily Hockaday is a poet and editor living in Queens. Her first full-length collection, Naming the Ghost, debuted with Cornerstone Press in 2022. She is the author of the poetry chapbooks Starting a Life, What We Love & Will Not Give Up, Ophelia: A Botanist’s Guide, and Space on Earth. Her poems have appeared in print and online journals, as well as with the Poets of Queens and Parks & Points’ Wayfinding anthologies. Emily is the recipient of a New York City Artists Corps grant, a Café Royal Cultural Foundation grant, and the winner of the Middle House Review Editors’ Prize. Her poems have been featured on RadioLab, with the performance series Emotive Fruition, and in the Office Hours Fellows showcase events. You can find Emily on the web at www.emilyhockaday.com or @E_Hockaday.