by Wendy Burk
James Angelo D’Elia I call the Cactus Wren
who, upon squeezing into the desert biome through mesh
and cambering a clumsy nestosphere,
no longer worries about being plotted onto a graph, or noticed by anyone.
Science is a muscle waiting for small alterations,
a human on the walkway as invisible as a callus!
So that might be you piloting your wheelchair down the hill toward me,
Heart in the heart—
Body in the body of the Biosphere,
as every visitor hands an invisible body into the airlock,
the sun-swept biome where outside most enters in
and inside most resembles outside, lie
and truth of our experimental lives.
James Angelo D’Elia inspects a set of plastic tubs,
uses his beak to think about mycorrhizae,
translation: duet of the life of water and earth
Flowing into rhizomes,
We all have them.
Ashes, ashes, ocean.
Last updated November 14, 2022