Extinction Buffet

We feasted our way into this mess

and by God we’ll feast our way out.

Here — we’ll sit by the fireplace

(all places count as such now)

and slake our smoky throats:

drink deeply the tempests in teapots

lest they thrash lands unprepared, unrepentant.

Saltwater-crusted teeth are a small price

to stay our course — we’re all Atlantis-averse

here, chalice-sippers.

With the right lies we can make darlings of anything

so some of us sacrifice by falling

in love. Nowhere’s safer for butterflies

than the stomach, nowadays, and it mightn’t be so bad —

being a home. We’ll make room for bees as well,

atonement via appetite for collapsing them all. We can’t deny

the thrill of rescuing honey.

Consumption’s what doomed us, yes,

but surely this new insatiability will save the creatures

we’ve deemed deserving. Of course, let’s be practical.

The mouth works in two directions:

we must remember too to sing our children lullabies,

lend them just laws that keep us fed.

A faltering resistance

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