Turtles Were not designed to be lifeboats Bats not strung to their stalactites like balloons, floating out caves to become kites wrapped around our fingerslike a falconer of the Caymans The locomotion of hermit crabsNot inspiration for us to build Houses upon houses upon houses-Where we all sit inside stuckjust waiting to find a new shell to crawl infor the tide to pull us to shore  If I were to wash up on a empty islandwith only the insects buzzing in my earI would bring with me a crownStep up to a throne of reeds and palm frondsFor even the canopies need orderThe jungle needing subjugationThe tide, washing up a torn, red flag GiftedWith my salvation. The teeth of Tigers Collected for my diademsNo rebellion in this lawless realm because They don't feel anythingThe bible said all these creatures Go to neither heaven Nor hellAnd the dinosaurs that once feasted on my palm frondThroneNever existed. I am man. The only things in the back of my shrinking brain That I overlookedWas the birdsToucansParakeetsThey whisper in the apex like white noiseAnd they remind me of homeThose voices unheard.The Smiths, The Jones, The Williams.Little ones like ladybugs on a ceiling-I wonder what they would think Of the futureIf they saw me burn this islanddown.