To the innate island of extinction we belong; an
Arachnid species, & if you include the sting in our tail,
We weighed in at three feet long. We fed on dead bats
Mostly, that dropped from the sky of the mind, but other
Hungers killed us; & as for that mystery concerning Amelia
Earhart & her disappearance, we can wrap that up for you,
She landed on the wrong foot, ours, & poison did the job.
Then Japanese troops lived off us, see, they occupied our
Caves, riding the crest of near annihilation long after the war
Had stopped, but their bayonet sting was longer, appetites
Superior, & once you removed our hard shell, we were egg
Yolk soft & stewed with roots. Yet, like these guerillas we
Had vanished by 1952; new golf course fantasies erupted.
A final surrender to the inevitable conclusion: war is over.