by Miriam N. Kotzin

“Locals panic as Sea of Galilee turns blood red…”
—Daily Express U.S.

1. Hers

“My darling, soon we’ll have no lips;
you’ll touch no more my thighs or hips.
But now I yearn. Away time slips,
so pass me the potato chips.”

2. His

“It’s merely algae in a bloom.
Love, once abed we’ll banish gloom,
become anew like bride and groom
when, though we die, our bed’s no tomb.”