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Poetry of Issue #8        Page 77

Another World Is Possible

The monster that can’t be defeated here,
the sedimentary tentacles concealed
within the river near the mountain,
invading our bodies, choking our cells
after we drank the poison from the mines.

The monster that can’t be defeated here,
its chest the drying land of climate change,
the scales throughout its scales deceiving us
into thinking grains of wheat could penetrate
the armor, only to see our spear tips break.

The monster that can’t be defeated here.
The only weapon that will work is there,
whatever theres are gathered near the here.
This there, that there, the other there arise,
adhering to the creature like the hairs

that catch a bug on a leaf of the butterwort
to which the souls of dying buttercups
had transmigrated. Past the skeleton
the monster leaves behind in the desert,
the crops begin to grow. We start to breathe.

  Aaron Morris