A time or not
when heavens turn to coal tar
and sky and clouds
are etched upon
some cavern wall, if at all;
destructive distillations
of hydrocarbons fall
to feed organic seeds
and wind knows
naught of gentle breeze
that once upon a given rose
did so please
a fragrant floral summer bed
and it was said
that salty waters
loved a class of Pisces fish;
scrods and flounders
tunas, swords
and also hoards
of mammals swam that sea
and too, found locks of land
to rest upon,
where there was mating,
procreating
onto such soil
as memory might
greet the light of terra
with its Life of greenery
should the sun not shudder
and turn the heavens to coal tar...