we may become creeping things

if left unchecked

there may be nothing human here

at all

when the old ones come

with their fragments of empire

what of it?

what of broken things?

the ice came long ago

and left warmth only in soil under pine boughs

so why not become a creeping thing

earth and flesh in groping palms

watching the skies

and the edge of the forest

and more come every day

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To hear me interviewing Colorado poets, check out thepoets.co

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Photo by Joey Pilgrim on Unsplash