the song

moving cells in a drop of blood
bodies made of, caked with mud
voices lowing across the plains
wind in hair and water in veins
all these elements speak the same
tomorrow we may find our names

spinning webs in a shaking tree
sunlight flees from a mountain’s lee
axioms set with ink and lead
carving marble to raise our dead
sketching out where the last stars went
clasping hands for the prayers not sent

turning leaves with a hint of snow
wondering how the end will go
tiny creatures beneath our skins
writing laws to invent our sins
we consume what we need to live
comet tails must the sun forgive

falling red frozen mercury
pale white fish with no eyes to see
crystal virus in a velvet lung
passing biases to our young
churning butter in an ancient barn
surely God can do no harm

bent umbrellas in torrential rain
stabbing children to numb their pain
mantis colored to match her land
canyons patterned in flesh of hand
if our math fails on blackboard slates
find the words to deny all fates