heere ther wast Oxygen
This Proterozoic stratum:
streak of red iron a gigayear gone--
Martians, you brought a flora,
toughened on its natal (4th) world,
your staff of life;
water back home shrank away
from a thinning atmosphere,
so you thought to alter ours.
The terrestrial air
would kill you dead, octopoid,
mauger the oxygenators that you brought.
Wells' time machine foretold your
bacteriogenic doom, tho
he moved you to the Anthropocene;
your corpses talk a thin red streak
that we poor humans still can't read,
they say STOP!
your next breath may be your last...
make it count.
end
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