from genomic vanitas
Of thy last end, in all thy works, be mindful
the still life’s legend says:
lyre & death’s-head clock, depetalling
tulip & convolvulus-canker,
wrought silver candle-snuffer,
& fruit flies’ agitated sphere
over split skin of cherries & blue-mold
caved-in scab on folds of peach:
in each, unwound, ripped-in-half
strands of DNA
self-duplicate &, replicant, endure their going-hence:
surrogate of the everlasting, like Eternity
in the tail-whip of gamete, in the condom’s
Nothing to Obstruct
Shall there be
frogs & mice without brains? Nihil obstat. Circumcision
foreskin snippets to patch together a new face
for the burned? Nihil obstat.
Unfeathered chickens to save on cooling bills?
A cactus growing human hair? Nihil obstat.
Human embryos dangling as earrings?
:Obstat. Contra naturam.
Nature sometimes draws aside & goes
away, & in these remote parts indulges herself
in shy & hidden excesses…