Pliocene Morning

There was a collapsed star.

There was light at the very end of a cave.

There was lightning that struck a tree.

There was a baby born

With a slightly bigger skull, one day.

 

Her mother didn’t know what she’d birthed.

She couldn’t see the skyscrapers

Or endless hours in the fields.

 

Out on the twilight Savanna

Still crying

The little mutant clutched her mother

 

In the early hours of the Pliocene

wph

VT

16 years old

More by wph

  • Poetry

    By wph

    Midwestern Night

    Midwestern night.

    There’s something out in the fields,

    Something banging on the roof.


     

    Fresh vomit in the toilet.

    The sink is running, so you can’t

    Hear your own heavy breathing.