in addition to our own issued organs, we’d get coral’s opsin to track the sun,
a moth’s antennae, sensitive to our love’s every movement, however remote,
the red wood ant’s sense of seismic imminence, vast to last, gathered to disperse.
Whiskered like seals, we could zero in on hydrodynamic fish trails,
with fewer vessels in our falcon eyes to refract or distract, how crisp our vision
from on high, pit viper hunger magnified and directed by the forked taste of scent.
But would we want inner compass crystals to align with magnetic fields?
How far into the lower ultraviolet spectrum or higher pitched 3D display would we reach and why,
when any Monday finds us in sunshades and noise-cancelling headphones, after a jacuzzi and a scotch?