Tuesday, November 5, 2013

November Poem-A-Day 2

“News of the Day”

It’s all there for the grabbing:
briefs, tits, timber, anything organic.
It just has to go into your mouth
your fists, your bank account.
I’m afraid I’m spoil, exploitable,
an acquisition, your challenge.
Conquer me, use me up, move on
when I’m redistributed, piecemeal,
fully degraded, and call me biodegradable.
Stop the world; I want to get off.
But wait, I am the world, the aeons
of creation, the next generation.
I will not always be human.

No comments:

Post a Comment