May the meek inherit something gorgeous.

On this morning before Earth Day, I offer this ominous psalm by Lo Kwa Mei-en from her 2015 collection, Yearling.
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“The Extinction Diaries: Psalm”

The world is another cage I cannot map. Once
emptied, the ocean will sit down, a love song inside it:
a black fish mouthing Hallelujah to the walls, opening
itself on them for good. Glory being, beloved,

our mane was dynamite. We fell asleep with a jet
strand swallowed and for life couldn’t light it. Not like
a gun in the hand. The lands of what cannot illumine
grow deep and a mouth roots then uproots like an

ant-engined hill. Nothing eats. To know what once could
is to know why. No river shatters past as fed as a city
of straight lines and no tender enters the fault
of our body. From its deeps, the white coin of vertebrae

in a bowl of hips tells the future. May the meek inherit
something gorgeous. May I. May a geography of
defiant climes shock the ocean’s flesh, its fish many
thunders—may they ring true. May we. May

I run in our sleep, keeping up and more with kings
too great to see in the dark. Too great to see grow
the tides, each made in the image of a shut door.
Behind, god, a school of tongues, singing the keys.

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