The Washington Post says that green burials are
on the rise, as baby boomers plan for their future
their graves marked with sprouting mushrooms
little kneecaps crawling up from the dirt’s skin
like Michael Brown decomposing into the concrete
ending as natural product of the environment.
Elephants are now being born without tusks
their genetics having studied the black market
DNA a spiral ladder carefully carved
from wooden teeth of Founding Fathers.
Never let a chromosome speak for you, they will
only tell a myth—an ode to the survival of the fittest.
Peppered moths are used to teach natural selection
their changes in color an instance of evolution.
Birds unable to see dark moths on soot covered trees.
The number of blacks always rising with industry.
Life is the process of erosion, an inevitable wearing down
of the enamel. The gums posing the threat of disease.
On most websites they suggest biodegrading
choosing a coffin made from pine or wicker.
The man in the paper said, I want to be part of a tree,
be part of a flower—go back to being part of the Earth.
I imagined my Mother then, her short-cropped hair
like freshly cut grass, immune to the pains of mowing.
The Natural Burial Guide for Turning Yourself into a
Forest sits waiting in my Amazon shopping cart.
Pink salmon have now evolved to migrate earlier
I am familiar with this type of Middle Passage
a loved one watching you move on without a trace
the living inheriting an ocean of time
the sun rewiring the water-damaged insides
cells desiring to go back from where they came
\\ certain strands of
your kind now extinct.