a robin egg keeps falling out of its nest. Remind me:
there is never one way to return home. We are connected
by how many streams run through us, rebuilding current
from current, as in now. As in, we still eat the children of other animals.
We make things by killing other things. This is how we want to be remembered. We eat starting with the skin. We sometimes eat with our hands. Your
fingers first excavated my bones, mistook them for a dinosaur’s.
There are no certainties in a fossil.
This is the loneliest place. The things we cannot know for sure.