A hundred nimble yogis
Beaming energies down from a spaceship
Did not behead the president
They weren't trying to.
Those same nimble yogis
A year later, half-starved,
Thinking about consuming each other
Wished they had
beheaded the man
Who'd defunded 'Yogis in Space.'
This time, with feebler powers
Aiming downwards they tried to
Behead the president but his head
Came only partway off and surgeons
Were able to re-attach it.
The same chimpanzees that had fondled
Jane Goodall looked up to see where the beams
Were coming from, chimpanzees being particularly
Sensitive to interstellar beams
And when they learned those beams
Were sent for violence they beamed back up
Toward those hundred nimble yogis
Messages of comfort and peace
Ninety-nine nimble yogis
About to consume the weeklest, feeblest yogi
Halted with their forks and knives in the air
As the love of the chimpanzees washed over them
"Don't eat her," whispered the least feeble
The yogis nodded; put away their forks and knives
Helped the near-sacrifice to her feet
And each said: "I'm sorry."
But the near-sacrifice doubted
She could ever trust her fellow yogis again
One message from the chimpanzees had saved her,
But what about when the hunger resurged? Wouldn't she be the
victim then?
She didn't know
That the president had re-funded 'Yogis in Space'
That veggie burgers would be arriving tomorrow
She didn't know
So her heart chakra burst open like a rusty pipe
And spilled stars.
