Omnicide

And when our children ask,

       Why did  you do nothing as the world

             was dying?   what will we tell them?

Will we say, We didn’t know how

       sick it was, or admit that We gathered

Old  Time was still a-flying—?

       It’s now the end of  everything,

             our children will say, go crawl

             your shadows. And our children

will light candles across seven continents

       empty now of  lions, kangaroos, ravens,

             squirrels, javelinas, pelicans—

devoid of praying mantises, koalas, ants,

       cobras, snails, Doberman pinschers, pigs,

             vultures, lizards, and alley cats.

Our children will hide in caves with blind

       cockroaches, together feeding on the algae

             glowing in neon greens and blues

across dolomite and limestone walls.

       They’ll leave no pictographs behind,

             no sprayed handprints, no artful gods.

Such silence now, they’ll say, this  you’ve

             And we’ll beg them, Survive.