Winged things, prizes or pests
Fastened to death with the pins in our chests
Or posed with a shell, we both fell from the nest
To spend death as our life's palimpsest
Spitted things they dropped among leaves
Or buried beneath (Didn't know we were seeds)
Kernels of truth assuming the lead
Slowly fed by our foes' entropy
Hand-made examples
Warnings to send
Dry skin studies and
Jarred wet specimens
Cast out the garden
Or lost to the wind
Ways are found and held
They spring up from within
Wild shades, ageless, unmoved
Will pour from the bodies that we all once used
Resurrection men can claim the refuse
If we fight, we still win when we lose