I am very tall.
I also am tall.
I have these great big trees
that bristle my ridges.
Rare cresses soften
my altitudes.
And morels burst
like fists from my fragrant earth
in locations I disclose only
to select foragers.
I refuse to be foraged.
Okapi graze me exclusively,
their great spiral horns
catching the late sun
as it scatters the riverlight.
And when they die
their monumental skulls
are overcome with pillow-soft
moss untouched by—
You should see me at sunset
when my snowdrifts fizz
in a crosswind and the light
is strung between the very
large trees I mentioned earlier.
Great spouts blast
from my plateau
at irregular intervals
which is just one reason
multiple research bodies
consider me active.
You will well recall
I did shred the sky
and stub out the sun
in a time beyond
the reach of human science.
I do not recall.
You will well recall
all life swallowed
by an ash and darkness
that was mine.
I do not recall.
You suppressed
the memory and that
is understandable.
There is a heat inside me
you cannot comprehend.
English (US) · 