by John Grey
So what in the world's gone now,
what forest, stream or maybe
parking lot, housing estate,
acquired its unknown absence.
No scrape, no whistle,
no pouncing on some tiny woodland
creature that has no clue how
much safer life's become.
Who marks down these things?
Who listens for the unheard echo?
Imagine it. Entire populations
of living creatures gone like some people.
No, you can't imagine it.
You don't know what to imagine.
So where’s the smooth handfish?
What about the harlequin frog?
Has anyone seen the stubfoot toad?
Or the spined dwarf mantis?
Now if you only had the corpse.
But no one knows one's needed.
So what in the world's gone now,
what forest, stream or maybe
parking lot, housing estate,
acquired its unknown absence.
No scrape, no whistle,
no pouncing on some tiny woodland
creature that has no clue how
much safer life's become.
Who marks down these things?
Who listens for the unheard echo?
Imagine it. Entire populations
of living creatures gone like some people.
No, you can't imagine it.
You don't know what to imagine.
So where’s the smooth handfish?
What about the harlequin frog?
Has anyone seen the stubfoot toad?
Or the spined dwarf mantis?
Now if you only had the corpse.
But no one knows one's needed.
No comments:
Post a Comment