I am only borrowing time,
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
As she sucked the juice.