The sickness is already in our lungs
In our brains
In our veins
In our teeth
They don’t really matter
The flies, the sound of this creek or the
wind in the pines
It is already in us
It is us
The dead trees know about it
The worms
The monks
The birds sing about it in their eerie
verses
All the lizards under the sun
The weavers
The Train wreckers
It’s in every bare branch
In every fish like stone
In every fire
We have lived through it
We have breathed it
It is already flowing inside our spines
Holding onto our feet
Deep and
and shallow
the gas
It is
us
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