I am only borrowing time,
These bones,
This algae air,
My pockmarked skin.

We commandeered the Earth
And charted a course to Hell.

But what to make of the parasite that savors as it siphons?
What if a predator says grace for its prey?

Today I pray an imprint into clover-speckled grass.

In excelsis to the wisp-shrimp cloud,
Agnus dei the preening dove.

It will never be enough
To praise what we despoil.

Still, I imagine Eve’s pink tongue
Sang hosanna
As she sucked the juice.



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