Eclipse of All Earths

The queen dug her colony in valleys of corn husk.
New venom teethed in the migrant sows.
Swarm from nectar into these fragrant lands.

They said they'd seen the bishop flaunt a halo.
Then watched it explode in a runny sky.

Lower than God, lower than country, then amissed in dirt.
Ants comb the ground and trail from a hole
of a gerrymandered well.

The poppy leaf fell by the hand of a medium.
The queen perched on the still skin clay streets.
Beasts, creatures of disorder winced until the ticks set
in the revolt of the bellies
in dust storm restitution of the universal seed

of want that enhazes the nations.

To return to before,
the chocolates rot their buds
to the prying of our wider animal.

Breeding over the marsh into the shape of the trees,
but the queen is a man.
The wilders were a man
to the ocean that repents her sixth birth
and rises into men to drown back the bodies to the spirits chased off to the thread of the tropics' horizon.