under the cvs parking lot
is a prehistoric dream.
as a girl, i walked there barefoot
in patterns around green & brown glass.
felt their foot prints widening beneath.
we have no evidence t-rex buried their dead
but i know they did. gathered
in circles. trees burning with grief.
how can our words animate a world
before their own existence? even t-rex
had five different ways of saying "kinship."
t-rex language too was knit
without past or present. the gathered
& the soon to gather. i love most
the places where only poetry can enter.
here is ancient mourning. here is
the body of a creature becoming only bone.
i don't know if i want to be a t-rex
but i do know when i sense them
in the parking lot i can't help but believe
i've made some mistake. here i am
with plastic bags. bottles of elsewhere.
feet no longer bare. my body nothing but
a femur. ghost rain washing their bodies.
stories of the oldest feathers.
then, i think, will an animal someday
sense me & my bones. crave a living room
& mirages of caskets. think to themself
"i could have been a human, but instead
i am this." t-rex had four chambered hearts
the size of pigs. i have a handful of dirt.
t-rex are gathering & gathered & soon
to arrive. dusk falls early because its winter.
i return home. see their shadows
conjured by street lights.