Denisova
Old
man swings his legs
blue-gray
water surges
crabs
scuttle among the rocks
he
looks across the water to the sunrise
where
are his people?
The
hills are bare
across
the sea and under it
he
cannot find them
he
can smell the new folk
on
the tall islands
once,
he adopted some of the new children
they
carved his face in stone
turned
on him at the end
but
a forest grows as it must.
The
new folk swept the others before them
but
he contemplates adopting again
or
he could rise up over the sea
he
could live among them
he
could find a woman
bring
his people back the old-fashioned way
one
child at a time.
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