A mouth,
twisted to a pinhole.
Two eyes,
folded into stingy purses.
Ears
apparently unchanged,
but you can tell
they’re closed within.
Hands
rolled up and clubby.
Can’t you see what’s next?
Hear that thumping, see those feet
seeking a jumping-off place?
Get ready for fight
or flight. To defend
or chase. To return
to the savanna
we all recall when necessary.
Dark Matter 