Cave Painting

This beautiful blue marble
will still be here,
despite our own 
fear of leaving the sun.
Living underground
with the stench of our ancestors. 
Living off the cavemelt,
the drips of confidence
that we make
out of the lies 
we tell ourselves.

We mix
our own paints
from dry pigments.
We mark the walls.

The animals we hunt.
Our clan.
The hands we used, 
outlined in oxide.
A deep red ochre,
we owe
to an angry Jupiter
and the bloody bits 
of a dying star.