after the crash

rogue fader
I shade into floral tributes
diluting the perfume of dying
Abraham Darbys

yeah, I’d been raised by humans, too
too late now to do anything but
imitate their elocuted
grunts – like you, I guess

I’d prefer transcription
into their smaller worlds
their empty animal acts
like titles of movies

never made, biopsies that never
got to the lab
that could have been, and almost were
my carved out lives