It’s not Much of a Stretch
to Say Annie Dillard
Reveals that Life = Death
Who doesn’t have a fantasy that’s dark?
It comes up from the undergrowth like slime
Or other fungi. It’s the basic quark
That psyches stretch out from. It bides its time.
Some night it might evolve its DNA
And make malignant vegetation or
Far worse. It forms distortions underway
To being human, humans from that spore
Of nightmare stuff. It comes in northern murk
With bestiality thrown in. The young
Of this confusion’s blending tend to lurk
Where snout and nostril snuffle for the tongue.
The teeth grab first, though, then the gullets gulp.
Our fantasies are life’s subconscious pulp.