rats
Our very own Bruce Whitelaw,
(nestling into ageworn fabric fissures,
above, Alba’s winter blows amber rays across passing clouds),
hankers prim for humans minding animal matter
“decisions based on knowledge rather than fear”
To which I shed a tear, a feary tear.
Roslin chapel’s leering dread:
that Esvelt Church has leaks in its ducts
That : “drive systems should not be developed
nor field-tested in regions harboring the host organism”
(meanwhile precipitous drops in third quarter charts),
A trumpeter spurts the death of synbio.
seething murinae are pulled from the trope jar
vermin invasive, disease-carrier crop-crunching hoardster
squeals jitter waves and repulsion shocks cross bustling streets
beautiful border walls secure gutters from maelstrom,
genotypophenotopophylologies loop with career glitters, and
trample Rosetta’s bone. Then young Gus jumps in
“You are only targeting the target species you plan to.”
And the trophic systems thrum with entwining tongues and tendrils
fluttering reorder throughout our panicky telos
a web of ways trims toward oblivion.
The knots untie. With lumps in their throats (and strummed nucleotides a rosary)
The sestet’s ducts are sealed, and it’s gone