This is a first draft. A friend of mine got attacked and so I have written this for him. I hope he doesn’t mind its raw and unfinished state. Maybe one day I can fix it up a little bit.
The Land of Air
In the land of air
heads were full of something
close to nothing. Rocks
were dreams. Hard and sharp,
possible materials for hunting,
cutting, building, or scratching
magic symbols on trees.
Then came the thuds.
Recalled the days of roaming
dinosaurs. Not the slow,
vegetarian ones, but the clawed
and roaring, with teeth to gnash,
grind bones to dust. Brains
smaller than writing instruments.
Everyone shuddered. Thoughts
grew dim and turned to rubble.
With every roar came declarations,
castrations. The land of air grew
thin. Whoever resisted was slain,
thrown to twisting, bitter winds.
Until like air folks moved
closer to invisibility.