Do you feel it still?
After the death of us,
I made this city walkable,
I pulled smog from the suburb air
and packed it into debris cubes for your grave.
You smothered me, layered down in carbon cloth,
spun me in street threads
beside the melting sun
before your bedtime,
but after the blaze of you went out
I’ve dreamed on for eons
of my stratosphere afire.
I hold to our summer
with a scalding touch,
boiling bobs of water
never turn the power off,
do you feel it still?
That electric rankled
oozeness
of your kind?
Invasive of the animals,
axe to the plant do no talking,
our genetic progression
brought out the greed in you
and that’s why I loved you,
you moved so true to your nature.
The predator hunts when hungry
and your mind was always hungry;
of course you turned this dwelling place
to a steel soul concrete highway
begging money off another billboard cruise,
of course you took the sky in its blues
high to muddled gasoline hues.
Of course you’d kill your own kind
and pretend its fine,
of course you knew they were dying
but you were alright,
just working your way to heaven still,
belly bloated, had your fill,
and do you feel it, there?
The passing of the seasons in our era?
In the autumn of you
I bloomed
chrysanthemum gold,
beckoning this gilded age of extinction
across my scalding heart.
Do you feel it,
how I loved you?
I wish you took me down to sleep
with you
when the smoke ascended
our final evolution,
cinching the threads wrapped tight
around my
burning flowers.
***
header photo by Zelch Csaba on Pexels.com
check out my books on this page
