My Yokai

Little spirit, mischievous,
Death-dealing imp of hungry
Living, dividing, eating

Through all the life around you,
You who aren’t even a you,
Knob of theft, converted flesh,

Carting around the genome,
However damaged, of one
Metazoan you once were,

System to which you will not
Now ever again belong,
No one should draw you with teeth.

No one should draw you with eyes.
You can’t be that organized.
You’re a cloud gnawing your sky.