The Poetry of Mark Daniel Milbocker 
Ammolitic

No silver hammer[1] will thrice
tap my hollowed skull
though alien chisel may
cleave whatever chromatic stain
shimmers across the mineral lattice
long after my forgotten necrosis,
cracked and polished, lies
dressed upon a plinth with placard
expositing the excesses of
a rapacious species that filled
oceans with the rust of iron bindings
and the alpha emissions of dying isotopes.

Will their xenomic spawn find
admonishment from the unlearned
patterns of the manifest destiny
of the overcivilized who fell before
just another wave of colonialism
and the digestion of bellies
that were already full?
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