dear species
because you leave your porchlight on
in case someone visits and
lock your door in case they do

and because you grow flowers
on your balconies
and forget the names
of your neighbors

dear species because
you speak in apologies
for things you plan to do again
and dress your cruelty
in ceremony

and because you write history
in permanent ink
then hand out
erasers

dear species because
you measure wisdom
in years survived
but treat the aged
as inconvenience

and because you name nations
like they are gods
then worship flags
more than faces

dear species because
you build the theatre
before you write the play
and clap before the ending
just to be certain
someone hears

and because you lay bricks
over quiet
and call the wall
a necessary boundary

dear species because
you build schools to teach peace
and factories to fund war
and never once
see the contradiction
as anything but tradition

dear species
i regret to inform you
you are still
the punchline