No one, yet, is talking about anything who isn’t
A human, a breathing animal of one species
In a modest range of colors and sizes. I watch
The apes who created monsters, gods, and poetry,
Meaning me, and consider how every body
Of every multicellular organism, including
The giants, the forests, dinosaurs, and whales
Was built by cobbling together more little cells.
There is a monster, a god, a forest that I am
That yet consists in part of this little man
Delighted with himself for being outside
In mild weather in a handsome place when
None of the other little talking cells knows
Or cares where he is. As he sheds even one
Cell from his skin, I could, I will shed him.
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