Gnototheodic

Raised in a theological
Trexler isolation unit,
In which the outside world emerged
From the floor in pop-up hazmats

Cartoonish as Michelin men,
Puffy as animated clouds,
You were given to understand
You were inside what was outside

But not of it. Not out. Not of.
Negative pressure plastic film
Kept viruses from reaching you.
The idea was you’d grow a suit

Of your own you could wear outside,
Brave adult and solitary
In a world of infectious thoughts,
Immune in your armor of God.

This was necessary only
Since your job was to capture fresh
Candidates for isolation,
Bring them in for disinfection,

Let them raise fresh bubble children
Like you. But thoughts are dangerous.
Exotic ones pose a high risk
Of infection by aerosol

Transmissions. So you sprung a leak.
Micronotions slipped in for which
There are no known vaccinations,
And if you’re ever quarantined

Again, it won’t be to keep you
Safe from the alien outside,
But to keep you, the alien
Infection sealed off well within.

Once More, This Is the Beast

Little, nasty animal,
Clara Mucci said, sing-song
In her Italianate lilt,
Little monster on the road,
The opossum that she’d seen

Run over by a pickup,
More than thirty years ago,
An incident dined out on
And used to entertain kids,
Complete with accent, many

Times since. It had a tiny
Sharp a teeth. Little monster.
The origins of monsters
In whatever is unknown
But is evidently real.

The origin of sharp teeth
In phosphate acquisition,
Permitting piercing hard shells.
In shallow seas of language,
Extra genetic, extra

Neural, extra cellular
Storage of information,
Between the monsters, floating
On the waves, needles of light
Biting tiny, sharp a teeth.

Conservation

Given you’ve inherited
Most of the problems you have,
Don’t you feel kind of stupid

For being so determined
To save your inheritance,
Preserve what you’ve been given?

Cheater’s Teeter Totter

Always add weight to one end
To keep it down, and complain
If any of it’s removed.

Maybe bend your end a bit.
Say it was always that way.
Hold on tight and keep your seat.

Announce the winner’s always
Whoever rises higher,
Inches nearer to the skies.

Hermit

Another shell.
It fits you well,
Or it will, soon

As you make room
For the outline
Of this next life,

Clearing some space
From your old place.
You’ll settle in

Once it’s all in.
The shell will shine,
Shaped to your mind,

And make a home
Under your dome.