Down Below

Down Below

Rhubarb leaves repel
rampant nettles' claim on living space.

Below those broad, photo-chemical factory plates,
black earth, still damp, musty, cool to cheek,

while the ear strains across
sub-terra's frontier.

Beetle-scuttle down crevasse,
periodic slither of the worm which bars its path,

interminable as a Sante Fe freight.
Bacteria's babel-babble as they munch detritus,

pool their excretions. Roots drive down,
subsonic micro-thunder from the race to food.

Prone body aches
for underworld's long, slow,

pulse.