a nightjar flies over the ruined houses
carrying a soul, passing it
from one bird to the next,
never content with its song
We are outnumbered by countless other creatures, dwarfed by the complex imperial government of birds, by the subterranean empires of worms and grubs albino larva, moles, gophers, beetles with vast pincer jaws, by nomadic tribes of aphids and cutworms, by thread-like parasites that feast on my annabels in mid-summer, and of course, by the king of blood bandits, the Aedes aegypti mosquito that spawns in our lowland catchments and marshland.
Who could have imagined that humanity would inherit the kinds of apocalyptic powers previously left to the gods or that, when we finally noticed them, we would prove eerily unable to respond?