Analogy

There’s no good analogy
For the way one animal,
And one animal only

Produces analogies.
Bats echolocate, but sounds
Are hardly unique to bats.

All sorts of animals sing,
But not of what singing means
To the way stars arrange things.

Where’s the creature, the species
That produces, from its flesh,
Substances unique to it

That can’t be seen or tasted,
Touched or heard, that weave strange silk
Comparisons through the world?