Fugitives of more than the whole Earth alone

by Samuel Derrick Rosen

It's March again  We watch it worship
Snakes that eat their tales in remorse
Hearing all kinds of footsteps  We wait for
Something resembling a cup to be drained
And something like an ever
So slow violin concerto
Performed deep in the belly of a military zone.

Soon we'll wake to behemoths
That keep not for long their concept of time.  Dream
We are bureaucrats in a small-town seeking
Dishevelled redemption  Topsy-turvy forgiveness.

We will not find ourselves
Above the earth twinkling strings of dead satellites
Nor shall we dwell on the gravity of the gods
But like fishes we'll fly  Like forests we'll walk
Fugitives of more than the whole Earth alone.