If I am
are you will
the speed of the spinning
of centrifugal earth
a similar orb
over there
you used to
be pliable
and now hard, aging
we are
flowers in a patch
flowers that smoke
flowers that eat the mulch
of our deceased
predecessors
some sunflowers
that blossom, shine
some crabgrass
destined to feed
the cows
heaving, lurching
toward food and sex
but one day
all fossils-
Echinoidea