The line of a man's neck, bent
over welding, torchlight breaking
shadows on his face, hands cracked
into a parched map of fields he has woken—
the gods wanted us.

Think of their silent preparation:
the creature who left the rocking waves behind,
crawling up on some beach, the sun
suddenly becoming clear. Small thing
abandoning water for air, crooked body
not quite fit for either world, but the one
that finally made it. Think of all the others.

Much later, spine uncurls, jaw pulls back, brow-bone
recedes, and as day breaks over the dry plain
a rebellious boy takes an upright step
where primitive birds are shrieking above him.

The line of a man's neck, bent
over welding, torchlight breaking
shadows on his face, hands cracked
into a parched map of fields he has woken—
the gods wanted us.

Think of their silent preparation:
the creature who left the rocking waves behind,
crawling up on some beach, the sun
suddenly becoming clear. Small thing
abandoning water for air, crooked body
not quite fit for either world, but the one
that finally made it. Think of all the others.

Much later, spine uncurls, jaw pulls back, brow-bone
recedes, and as day breaks over the dry plain
a rebellious boy takes an upright step
where primitive birds are shrieking above him.

He did it for nothing. He did it
against all odds. Bone of wrist, twist
of tooth, angel of atoms—an infinity
of courage sorted into fact
against the shining backdrop of the world.

The line of one man's neck, bent—
torchlight breaking shadows on his face.

There was a creature who left the waves behind
and a naked child on a windy plain:
when the atom rips out into our only world
and we're carried away on a wave of hot wind
I will love them no less: they are just how much
the gods wanted us.