Lungfish
Mated
When marigolds fall from your poresAnd magpies burst from your throatYou will be speaking in future tonguesYou will be wearing a backwards coatAnd we will be matedWhen you are sitting unawareTracing circles in the airAnd if they spin upon their axesAnd blossom into spheresThen we will be matedOn the scalp of the sunWe will find a sign inscribedOf the triple genitaliaAs if to remind usThat we will be matedWhen our children resort to liesWhen Baltimore begins to riseWhen you hear the inhuman criesDo not avert your eyesWe will be mated.
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