the city sits on the backarc
but they can’t see
it’s coming, the block.
they’re convinced they sit on bedrock, but
we still have each other, both in wait
our eyes on the caldera.
sensual and slow – the magma runs
down the side of the mountain, and
in the chaos your face glows brighter.
sitting calm at the table, we can see the people
just outside the window
sobbing in the streets, and we wonder
for what?
you and i have known a life of creep,
enough to see that
this is where creation starts
destruction—and
the only way to discover
something new,
is first
to bury it,
layer upon layer
and wait long enough
for some promise
of ablation.
