Two and a half hours’ drive away in Zion,
The extended family was struggling
To come to terms with an anachronistic,
Absurdly so, celebration of freak shows.
This being the third millennium, albeit
Very early in it, their struggle found its way
Through the relay waves as text messages,
Somehow leapfrogging the desert, arriving
Even among the crazed contortions of these
Sandstone freaks of nature being used
As exclamatory backdrops for the selfie lives
Of tourists congregating from near and far,
Far including at least four continents. Who
Has enough assertoric force to explain
To those who are not sports of nature
How we are all nature’s sports, down
To the monstrous wee giants of protists,
Hemimastigophora, Hemimastix kukwesjijk,
Stupid hairy ogres with many organelles
And flagella, sucking out cytoplasm of prey?
How did micro-predators from Nova Scotia,
Classified within a new supra-kingdom
Of eukaryotes and christened in honor
Of a Mi’kmaq myth, the kukwes, come to be
In this composition? The same way family
Texts freaking out about the mistreatment
Of freaks (who knew, right?) reached this.
Code coming over the air into nowhere, into
Where the gentleman at the picnic bench
By Lonesome Rock sat reading phrases
Off a glowing screen, kukwesjijk of a kind
Himself, hairy ogre, little freak, silly name.
This is no longer an instance of what this displays.
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