Nosce Te Ipsum (The Missing Adam) by Zoe Buckton

Absence shouts once

where Adam stood proudly.

Towering over our natural history.

The mystery of a missing frown,

who’s lips may swear,

‘look upon my works, ye mighty,

And despair!’

Beneath the stones, entombed,

Perch a thousand kiwis,

Twelve ivory tusks,

Thirty static, pinned bees.

The shipwrecked arc

in the centre of London,

stands a memorial

to the things we have done.

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