So today, the other September poets and I worked off a shared prompt, in this case a set of articles posted by the brilliant Sam Cha. One was a Guardian piece about the last passenger pigeon, and one was a New York Times Op-Doc on kite fighting in Brazil. Some poets chose one or the other. Mostly I was drawn to the passenger pigeon piece, in no small part because her name is Martha and that in itself is just outstanding. An old friend and I used to call each other Martha when we were feeling like cranky old ladies, so perhaps there’s a bit of nostalgia for that time in here as well. But being contrary, I tried to imagine not the sorrow of losing a species but the relief of being done. I have sometimes pondered who the last human will be, and if he or she will feel badly for what we were and did. The kite strings cutting one another (with glue mixed with ground glass!) seemed consistent with how much my Martha really disliked everyone. Here, take a look…