Sixty, or perhaps
sixty five million
years in the making—and sharp
and yet—dull
and unimpressive;
our minds—
though piercing
and potentially fatal
are surely nothing like carbon diamonds.
But more like
rusty nails—
to lie
ugly and unmoved
by surface pressures—and not
to think
of getting older;
but only—to dream
of growing
more
and more
ancient
and
dreadful-
ly—unavoidable.
