All Our Offspring Grow at Night

You don’t need to craft this
Or interpret this or
Read it. This grows itself.

Turn your head and look back.
Aha, now it’s larger.
Linear, segmentary

Like biomolecules,
Like multicellular
Life forms of simpler kinds,

Heaped up like the spun cones
By mole and ant doorways,
It’s not the gorgeous soil,

Not the one boring grain,
Or even all of them.
It’s the whole of the coil.