A Small Family History
Everything we had built turned
against us. Our growing, prosperous
populations starved, war erupted;
we suffered storms, floods, earth
quakes. These forced the rats
from their holes and into our
more secure tunnels. It was flu.
Then the black pussing lumps
at our pink groins and joints. We spat
blood. Some fled. Some found
scapegoats, slaughtered wholesale.
My clan climbed from their dens
over the frost, past the pits and rivers
of dead, and opened cold human
neighbors, crawled in for warmth, saying
I leave this record in case anyone
should still be alive in the future.