ARCHAELOGICAL SURVEY FROM A FUTURE ERA

The human brain was painted on the neck of god:
the heart on plain white canvas.
Our lungs were stitched from plaster and stone-
withered skin, the recollections of fettered deer.
When we breathe we breathe compositions
in the classical mode, not modern, not yet vulgar.
The oils from our skin and hair sketch
fanes crisping in alleyways, moray ways.
We slide from window-pane to window-pane
when we ought to elide and make a proper leg.
This is how we interact: in drawings,
the vaguest illustrations point-for-point
between one kneeling person to the next.
In a glass case you will see:
our heads of carton-pierre, bound to deny
the susurrations that announce them.