“He, too, had worked around to the front of things in his death agony. The hands were playthings that had to be cast aside at last like a little cherished toy. There was a meaning, and there was not a meaning, and therein lay the agony.”
-Loren Eiseley, The Unexpected Universe
Pity other creatures unchosen
for garnish of felonies
while evolving. Relative of carp,
the knifefish, larcenist of sky
coasts through her scalar kingdom
buoyed by electric pelf.
Mindless bolts discharge
in wizard clouds of silt;
invertebrates plead not to conduit
crooked pins of random wrath.
Does she interrogate her will?
Nothing flashes and is still.
Her likelihood surpasses mine,
I should quit this serpent vine,
submit to orders year-bent.
When she gains my arms, clandestine,
there will be nowhere to heal.
Stainless age cuts with a question:
is her cloak of daggers real?