There are little pools, Michael is laying in, empty
a bucket of crayfish
legs articulate on his chest in scuttle
The alpha sheared off his nipple
They recapture the crayfish, sitting them in the pink basin which is so smooth the crayfish explore the walls with their claws raising them as high as possible they are tagged and released all up and down the crick and they return to the shallow pool
The shallowness Allows for The water to warm & The current don’t wash the food away
A ruckus: the dog, Proteus jumps in the crick and eats one of the fish.
Proteus is led to the woods and shot by the man whose fish it was.
Before this, as many fish as were in the school there are people
the fishless man has to eat Proteus or he is not allowed to join the dancing.
He is made to sit far back from the fire. people call him Proteus from then on.
His digestion makes the first dung
The others don’t make dung. They have no butts.
What do the people do at night? they dance
the energy gives out it
is dark jumping
all around there is no fire
the dark is jumping all around it
is no fire or people
where are the crayfish the trap was broke
into the bank deep
into the mud
they found cicadas and bred with them and died
and the hatchlings slept
through a surface apocalypse
digging up through the old passages
bumping their heads on thick gelatinous plastic
some of the pools are too thick
for the cricadas to burrow through and they die some of them
mate in hope that the next batch will be close enough to the level.
These held their despair, did the only thing
Resolute loving, really groovy, and they know it
sliding their antennae over their wings
making new tones that buzzed the irregular edges of
the plastic they had chewed
was toxic enough
to give them a buzz