Lineage

 (8/2025) 

A die-hard misanthropist, I haven’t even bothered

to acknowledge kin on Memorial Day. My great-Aunt,

however, holds regular seances to communicate

with our ancestors.

 

She has tracked our lineage all the way back

through slave-holders and land barons,

through castles and mud, past four-footed mammals,

squid, and synapsids. She has found us living

on a hydro-thermal vent among tube worms,

limpets, and shrimp.

 

I wonder just how disappointed my ancestors are

at my inability to weather the cold—

my deep fear of equally deep water—

my lack of gratitude for what others may have done

to make my small life possible—

a quiet endpoint whose only sound

is breathing.