This year spring and summer decided
to go on without us,

to roll in the fields while we rolled
in poison—the glory! The relaxed

breaths of it! They pressed
against each other, not a reed fit

between, they made us wait
while the birds built and snakes sunned

and crocs snapped
at their frogs. The air milded

and cleared far from our sickbeds
because of our sickbeds.

O human, see, you are important—
Biology, hubris, apocalypse;

cages, carbon, energy—just
not the way you think. Just not

the way you wish.