we began as mouths in the dark,
tongues testing the world.
bitter leaves, sour beetles,
the warm mush of our own waste,
re-eating what was lost.

then,
fingers learned to break branches,
not just for nests, but spears.
the hunt began small,
ants, then monkeys,
then each other.
the strong ate first.
the weak watched,
then copied.

now,
the silverbacks wear suits.
trade not in fruit,
but futures.
whole countries swallowed
like handfuls of grubs.

we call it geopolitics,
not hunger,
we pretend the taste is different.

but when the market crashes,
when the mines run red,
we remember,
we are still just apes,
licking our fingers clean.
forget the bonobos,
their peace is a lie
spun by the victors
of the long war and red on black ashes.