by Dan Campion
“Carbon atoms in our bodies travelled galaxies before returning on cosmic ‘conveyor belt’”
—Manchester Evening News
Not only are we “star stuff” but
We’re mass-produced, like cars!
No wonder we find every rut,
And each new speed bump jars.
We’re quarried, sorted, sifted fine.
“Conveyor belts” come next;
We’re then assembled on the line.
Born instantly perplexed,
We roll down on the avenue,
Run into scrapes and jams,
And get recycled, when we’re through,
As future models’ prams.
From Henry Fords to Adam Smiths
To Ra hand-crafting pharaohs,
Our atoms circulate like myths
And rocket like Pierce-Arrows.