Where the crack began
it let the light in,
illuminating hidden diamonds
in the silky crust of the water,
shimmering like snake scales.
As the serpent--the crack--elongated,
side-winding down the rock,
reaching the tide as it rose,
allowing murky brown venom
to seep through--blocking the light--
it penetrated to the other side
to fall onto land that,
never before,
had tasted salt.
And the first plants died
under that constant drip
of false rain
percolating into the loam
where the poison seized
the root-heart and strangled it.
This, then, was the first born
son of the breach,
a harbinger of darker progeny
to follow in the sweet liquor
of corpulent bloating
and bacterial belching
of drowned corpse shells hung up
on natural fixtures
that survived the ensuing flood.
The harlot prostitute of decay;
the assuredness of change as abomination;
the wrong way to right the world;
that in the end,
remains, after all,
progress.
For Life emerges from Death,
and Death, who was here first,
never ceases to return for seconds.
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