Sunday, January 16, 2022

Dramatic, Lyric, Epic, Groupic

Every individual
Is plural, but no plural
Constitutes a single group.

The group’s the greatest fiction
Of the fiction-addled ape,
Faux social mammal, rival

For the eusocial insects,
Flexibly substituting
Systemic belief in hives,

Tales of colonies and clans,
Myths of peoples and races,
For any actual hives,

Absolute colony lives—
Stereotyped pretense for
Stereotyped existence.

There is no group of humans
That’s physically singular
In its type, no worker bees,

No soldier ants, no true castes
Bodily, functionally
Distinct from any others.

The group is a fantasy
For humans, facultative,
Itself all-purpose function.

In smaller bits of fiction
You can see the lust for types,
For nobles and commoners,

Warriors, gods, barbarians,
Fairies, elves, trolls, orcs, witches,
All anthropomorphic morphs

Manifested as fixed flesh,
True castes unlike those in life.
People put on their costumes

And force costumes on others,
And it works, it benefits
Something, but no group’s a group.

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