Legion

That one is a dust mote in the cosmos— 

a truism we soothe ourselves with.

But have you forgotten?

To trillions of lilliputians,

you are Gulliver: a superorganism.

A biome of moist, meandering terrain,

billions of microbes wriggling

through the labyrinth of your belly;

Endless fields of skin

where demodex mites burrow,

hatching eggs in subterranean oil pools.

Even the mitochondrion in my cells

was once a roving creature,

engulfed, entangled

by our ravenous ancestor.

A heretic would concede—

Mark 5:9 is true:

we are many; I am legion.

So if you deny kindness

to this fragile, warm-blooded vessel,

deny it knowingly

to the legion within—

who labour, divide, die;

co-keepers

of our fleeting lives.