MotherEarth has a Loose Vagina

We should have stayed in the uterus
We could have stayed in the garden.
We are certified orphans.
Umbilical famine.

Now my skyline is lined with sights far from sublime.
I was born just in time
to see the bloody birth
of the apparatuses
come kicking, screaming
and bending and beaming.
Oil-slick fetuses,
placentas of nuts and bolts
and mercury
out of the bodies of ignorant Eves.

For years
they’ve grown and evolved.
Metal monsters,
these cranes,
lifting their heads
to the mid-summer mid-day sun,
grinning their spike-toothed grins.

Like railroad tracks
to the clouds.
Like ladders
to kingdom come.

Tall erections
admiring voluptuous mother-earth before Jack hammering her for all she’s worth.

Oedipus! Oedipus!
Read some Leviticus!

McLeod & Cummings,
who invented the virus,
You’ll be weighed and bulldozed
by a comic Osiris.

We could have stayed in the garden.

I’ve planted anthrax in mine.