By Some Fluke

Poets, the unacknowledged
Liver flukes piloting brains,

The ones that will not survive
Sheep grazing, the ones whose eggs

Will never leave through feces
For the paradise of snails,

Never be coughed up for ants
To spin the cycle again—

The unreincarnated
Songs of reincarnation

Still, somehow, crop up again
And again, since ants have brains

And some fluke has to run one
For flukes to emerge again.