The Biologists Have Arrived

The great extrapolator has drawn up the map

That which you deny
You bring into existence
Those endless novelties you seek to destroy
Are brimming and budding
They’re bursting the seams of your neatly sewn conclusions
Circumnavigating the globe
For the sea you left behind
With your succinct and drastic closures
drawing up your belts of life
As if they could contain us
You place the azoic at will
As if you could move hemispheres
We fail to understand the middle depths
Living within our own smallness
The ocean is calling our bluff
I allow for the primordial slime
To bring us to terms with regions
Immeasurable and unexplored

That which you cut down to size
Falls neatly into your hands
A lamb for your iron
A stone for your enduring mark
Easily crushed and scattered
You boil down your conclusions
A reduction of syrup
A minor treacle
And jar them like bottom mud
A novelty for your shelf
A conversation piece

The biologists have arrived
With sea bed in their hands
That which you deny
They bring into existence