We grew this way; we
are this kind of species.
Sculling past the underpasses,
just unpreventable fragments of
our former selves. We grew this
way; we are this kind of species.
Unmarked. Lost from the hive.
Barely living off the sun. Stealing
from the sun. With unlaced shoes,
uncombed hair, hand made signs,
and machine egos once as big as Texas.
We grew this way; we are this kind
of species. Rising like Asimov’s balloon,
over the absinthe green arborvitae below.
Helicoptered away from another stage
thanksgiving, the smell of gooseberries
and frost on heart shaped rocks that
science cannot decompose with a theory.
We grew this way; we are this kind of species,
Mermaid legs. Silk noodles. Hemmed blouses.
Amazonian orchids. Chairs made of mule deer
pelts. Drinking mushroom tea and giggling at the
stars. We grew this way; we are this kind of species.
George Cassidy Payne is a poet from Rochester, NY. His work has been included in such publications as the Hazmat Review, Moria Poetry Journal, Chronogram Journal, Ampersand Literary Review, the Angle at St. John Fisher College, and 3:16 Journal. George’s blogs, essays and letters have appeared in the USA Today, Wall Street Journal, the Atlantic, the Havana Times, the South China Morning Post, the Buffalo News, and more.