The Mutants

Out we sailed
so proud, so foolhardy
in our little craft all struts and girders
the future interestedly observed us
from behind one-way glass

We, heavy booted
descended the ladder
planted our drooping flag
in the unmoving dust
made our little declaration
so carefully prepared
so inaccurate
so inadequate

Behind their wall
they regarded us bleakly
as dangerous  specimens
of a sick race
mutants
infected with fatal malignancy
unwelcome

Now here we stand
as the hands of an
old new millennium
sweep round
still dying
still unhumbled
doomed ants
still unaware
that we have been
rejected.

© 2004 Johnmichael Simon