Your shifty microbiome should mind
Its own multifarious business.
No one ever moves past metaphors.
There’s no dark side to a metaphor.
A metaphor is a backless world.
Imagination scrambles the front.
You could be a forest. You could be
A person. You could be an organ.
You could be a whole ecosystem.
There’s never a whole ecosystem,
Just waves crashing against metaphors,
Eroding them. Recombination
Is the only whole of anything,
The tumblers of a locked-in cosmos,
Its mind forever clicking, shifting.