recombination

let the chips fall where they may
scatter, and make patterns

to love someone
to be ejaculated into
to blend DNA
to half lose yourself
to shuffle the deck

to gamble your soul in some doubly twisted game
of sex and babies
and dominant alleles

and then you are gone
and there's this completely new person
who is you, but is not you
the sum of its parts
-or perhaps the product-
new, but not new

childish odds weighing up, mortal,
in the inescapable dialectic of meiosis.