A Song To Our Doom
Notty Bumbo, 2018
Yes the world breaks us,
Makes us from torn cloth,
Tosses and skins and leaves us bereft,
Seemingly whole yet missing some parts,
Twisted and stumbling and lost.
What names us is not us,
It’s something more distant
That keeps us apart from our self,
Some busted and rusted machine or failed body
Gathering dust on a shelf.
So many bones and tendons undone
By flimsy ribonucleotide ribbons dualistically joined
All given to myriad beings undone and
Left out to parch in irradiated air.
And despite this we’re taught not to care.
So sing to Thalidomide, to Chiso-Minamata,
Where uranium shines bright beneath a mercury moon.
Shout to the night filled sky-deep with carbon,
And wave to our oncoming doom.
Sing loud that it comes for us soon.