Listen:
A mandrake quickens
into greed-grab, tears a page
from Genesis. Clods
of earth are clods of god.
Clods of earth are clods
of dendrites with dirt
skirting the roots.
Let there be light
skins and dark skins. One
to rule the other. Manifest,
destinations of night’s pitch
plague the heart’s
thirst for extinction.
Memory of the untouched
is the more beautiful object.
From the streets
a humpback’s gashed fin laments
this justice, its skin scarred
with extinction’s dark
body owned by light.
I strike a candle
against tribal ruin, against
the separation of day
and night.