No one is immune

now, even our rain has changed

the landscapes— pristine

while animals fall

dead in the fields and forrests

and at our gnarled feet

we eat the poisned meat / at all hours sunset especially / seems both a good time / to hunt and to be/

nostalgic for a

time when the sky still felt as

if it belonged to us

and things like government required / immunization could feel like something/

that would save us from / the invasion instead they brought / a virus as they promised

and just like smallpox

in blankets ruined sunrises

four hundred years ago

colonization is always a curse/ a genoicide that continues without /

relief and now we walk / in the footprints / of our many long dead/

and recent lost ghosts awake/

to our own soon coming

end