Croaking Contest

"It's a fun little debate,"
One homunculus opines,
"Nice, circular, and empty,
A container, like zero,
A notation for nothing
That behaves like its own thing.
Peepers and birds sing inside."

"Metaphysical bullshit!"
Belts out another, put out
About having to hole up
Between the jug-handled ears
Of eternity. "You can't
Fit something into nothing.
Nothing's indivisible."

Their absences rotated
In this way for hours, puffing
And posturing, each hoping
To occupy vacancy,
Each afraid of becoming
The other. Around the round
Reflecting pond they wavered.

The fish burbled to itself
In the depths while this went on,
Resentful of the shouting
Back and forth over its head.
"If you were a scientist,"
Sniffed the first homunculus,
"You'd know why you don't exist."