I was the tree, the stalk,
and my children, the leaves, the crop,
then our calories were colonized
not as a metaphor is colonized.
Then starvation harvested miracles for us,
and solidarity spoke
in a bubble. Not all
bubbles are gassed equal.
To be the noise you can be in the bubble,
your gas must exceed your liquid,
but a bubble wants more.
A bubble tsar, you coagulate,
coalesce into a steady state,
and plant my flag in your bubble.
Sometimes awesome acoustics.
Sometimes engineers building
on what they’ve learned
are troubled to find themselves in a rubble bubble.
The grasshopper, gregarious in our fields,
tuned to the power of the crowd:
“Mirror, mirror on the wall
who’s the locust of them all?”
They are watching
our ribs hatching.
