by Esther Greenleaf Murer
Look at it this way: If we could
consign the Bush League
to the depths of the ocean trenches,
there to spend eternity mired in
graywacke, under excruciating pressure
in water superheated from the mantle
to 700 degrees Fahrenheit,
breathing rotten-egg gas—then
they'd promptly set about destroying
the giant tube worms, giant clams,
spider crabs, and most especially those
creatures unlike anything we know—
denizens of an alternate biosphere
whose very being engenders
an eerie hope.
Esther Greenleaf Murer lives in Philadelphia. She has published poetry in Friends Journal, Types & Shadows, Guinea Pig Zero, and Folly.