extinction parables

they are making robot bees to replace text messages.
the dandelion tufts are on their way 
from a rift in an old tongue.
what i want to say is
everything is easily interchanged.
if i lose my hair, i will simply wear
a colender on my head for protection.
those bees still sting even though they're man made.
god is not a man. i saw him once 
replacing my light bulb. 
the buzzing is coming from the shuffling
of ghost feet. a static shock skips like a stone
from my hand & down onto ant-sized people.
i get a text message from a sister i don['t have.
she is a bee waiting to become robot.
there are so many kinds of robot.
my afternoons are robot 
when there's nothing sturdy 
to hold onto. a great gust of wind
could blow all the bees into the sun.
each of the insects would smolder.
burnt popcorn is raining down on us all.
i have an appointment every single day
until i too am transformed into
something more sustainable. 
the bees in the flower bushes near me house
are singing a death song.
a trumper presses its bell from the dirt.
there is robot honey to be had 
if we are patient. when i wake up,
part of the world is already gone.
i Google image search a map 
to find bites taken out of the whole continent.
i am forgetting everything the bees taught me
& they are climbing higher & higher 
in an orange sky. Mary was scooped up
right into heaven. there was a picture of her moment 
in church. she closed her eyes.
now Mary is a robot too. she is the goddess
of pollunation & she is a dead species.
i am a harvestor of promises unkept 
& the bees promised to come to my birth day party.
i turn a porch light on 
in my own rib cage. the moths come.
the moths are also robot only they have no purpose.
i will catch the bees with my bare hands
& keep them close.