To launch a bomb with one hand clap
I strike this meat hook to the cellar floor.
Insecticides in cans are going up
As farmers here below must shoot their stock,
and bees turn mean to leave the ants behind.
A first cure asks decay to make new art,
bug virus or a tree off landfill trash.
Billions of cars must southward go,
but computer parts are slow,
now there’s polluting on the moon
this tragic species dies too soon.
For a second cure we seek another buyer.
Tree rings burned from the years fire
make earth imperfect
as heavenly metal in hell,
or hot gas Venus-Jupiter,
but not enough on Mars,
and Pluto’s worse.
It brings down the galaxy’s net worth.
Failing that the human gene will have to stop it,
Simple nature no longer profits,
we release a cure for all our wit,
flip the poles and make a sudden leap,
which makes the ages fall asleep.
The natural law is just, it just
takes long to rule the human meek.