When I call for heads, I try to think platter
-wise more than turned ear. My soft not softness. I’m excited
by the puma’s fur around her mouth after her kill, guanaco torn
like red bread. But I am more excited by how she breaks
the meat for her injured sister: limping, one eye gone.
I will put this panic attack about biodiversity into a panda
so it has the drive to fuck its species back to viable.
I will put my finger in the barrel, turn my hand into a rose,
break ledgers like loaves, limp to you
with a noose in my mouth: so good at sharing.
Eat this extinction with me. I’m not asking.
I am pumping tail pipes into bottled oxygen.
I am pissing in Evian. I was not born to re-educate.
I mean to fix the rotten heart & die. I mean to kill & share it,
to dig trenches against Big Fire like we can beat back death with death.