Cereal Poem

Werewolf PA, pt. 3

We leave the world of ghosts and head for the world of water mollusks, from under the water we see dim shades, the vague forms of a prehistoric extended family...in encapsulated fashion their story goes like this: they die in an apocalypse, all of them...don't worry though, this is but a taste, we shall see more of both them and the crayfish later...

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

crawls there

is no fire or people

where are the crayfish the trap was broke

they buried

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

to make drunk their decades dreams

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