Denisova Poem by jackilton peachum

DENISOVA

Fingerbone I was of small child, a stripling merely
-- science/ evolution cobbling together to make an ancestor--
before that, a doomed youngling under redtint paleolithic sky,
me bound for seaboard and shellfish capitol
looking up to find ghost-children chasing one another
in the wellheaven where gods live and stars are rounding
-- now I am stuff of your dreams and nightmares, aspirations
amid cry of gulls on a windy afternoon-
alas, we are flotsam on a time-river passing
- time-leaf, time-stick, debris only, a sloughffing in the stream-
and you who seek for answers in a theorem,
remember: human form's equal to seven gallons of sea water,
and here's that bucket into which we will pour ourself
if we are to begin the long-awaited return to Eden!
We're born, we defecate, and we die
- the rest is trimmings, extraneous matter.
True, I gave you Asia, but ‘twas an accident-
nothing planned, nothing to my credit-- therefore, I deny it!