Who Will We Be Next

The afterlife of being
created is not the same as done     
World’s on fire so wombats
let the distressed inside for shelter Grieving  
disappearances comes w/ an outlaw dare 
to negotiate mourning & a libidinal 
need to go on We plotted aberrations 
the way couples planned meals
filling trenchant mouths & feeding eyes w/mischief
Then all of a sudden there were no words     
Yes there are & they smell Beneath fascism’s stank 
the scent of defiant joy draws us 
together as animals to become another creature     
This is what living 
inside an organism looks like Embryology 
textbooks call this phenomenon love