Sharks
by Kylie Houser
Billions of years of evolution to make this
Fruit fly, which cannot tell whether it wants to
Move forward or backwards or to sit or to fly
And to make the trees that made this paper which
Is younger than sharks.
And to make me, who cannot decide whether
I want to sleep or to write or sleep or write.
I think and think. I think I can hear
My parents getting ready for their early flight.
Billions and twenty-two years to make them.
I can feel the fruit fly on my leg. It was designed
To live only a few days and it’s spending that
Time with me on my skin. How will I choose
To spend the rest of my time?
It seems I don’t want to spend it on my skin.
Whose skin, if any? I shake the fruit fly off -
I felt it too much. Should I go to sleep?
They’re leaving now. I have to wake up early
To walk and feed my dog.
Billions of years to make my dog
Billions of years to end up with me.
He had no choice and I see the way
He looks at the woods when I take him
To the park. I let him off the leash and he comes back
Because he has to. But he walks in the ivy and
Tests the limits, both of me and of the trees
Which are younger than sharks. Do I have to?
Did I have a choice? I walk into the woods.