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Because It's There

Why was I born
he asked and went to dust

without satisfying an answer


For years I searched
to unearth him, ask again

the unanswerable, sift grains,


molecules sparkling

in plankton showers

find reason in the groan

of a sun belching
into self destruction


I listened for his voice in burrows

moles gnawing old newspapers

to line their nests. He wasn’t there

either when the earth cracked

as a cooling cake does sometimes

trapping bleeding bodies under

rubble, or when the wind brought

a cloud of locusts from the south

eating the green naked overnight


Perhaps no answer will come

—or only the one I hear

when the wind comes in from the desert

remembering how the paper-yellow

blooms under the dunes watched

two ant-like figures struggle
up towards the summit

to plant their little flag

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© Johnmichael Simon



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