after Kim Addonizio
In the fern room damp teal plants grow,
having outlasted even the dinosaurs.
Their spores wait beneath the buildings,
and burst at times from highway medians.
I want to drift through you
like a river through the landscape
of the city’s prehistory.
Yet to be so near is terrifying:
Always something with teeth
approaching. The earth’s core,
still cooling, threatening to bubble up
and dash all the proto-progress.
The sense of an impending, fiery end.
The momentum of things
that come and go, disappear forever
& take with them
an entire age. The only remains
what you hardly noticed at the start,
drenched & dripping & green.