taking all the bones
humanity has ever held
between tendon and muscle,
and imagine - just imagine, just
for a second - throwing them
into the ocean: that's 107 billion,
multiplied by 206: that's a lot of bones.
They would sink to the bottom, some
more porous, some now more like powdered
husk, and form a great white hulk; like
a dead white shark, lying still and
quiet - but still predatory - on the seabed.
And in a few tens of millions of years,
buckled, pushed up on a plate boundary, would
come the great white mountain - The Bone Mountain -
fonting, ribboning and fountaining its white crust. And,
like the half-billion-year-old Burgess Shale, will be
writ on it, 'We were here. Yes, we were.'
But the Mountain would stand ominously silent:
capped with a crown of mute skull, fog-hugged;
the other creatures too fearful
and too superstitious