older than the order of things is the ear of the last trilobite dying with the crustaceans of my ancestors in the extinction event where the sun came in and the heat stayed in the ocean like a avuncular smile and the
light dripping the meaning of something at the handshake of brain and spinal cord shined
up early with the morning still so close to bedtime that
the shadows remembered tucking themselves in
and the long life could have been theirs with all
the plentiful sleep in the boneless night but for the unsated whispering creatures mutating for
all the world to see in the hush and the slippery melting of dawn's evolving scream.