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Opposing pawns have barbed arms
to hook and hold their enemies.
They care nothing for long travel.
I am about to happen. Their
job is to attack outsiders—
the fittest win. This evolved—one
must win. My molecular chain’s
first initials will read ATC-
ACT, which is: adenine,
cytosine, etc.—gumbo
made by armies battling to enter
a soft egg. I curl up and sleep
to make the Great Nothing happen.
When I wake I fret, strut, destroy.
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