|Oct/Nov 2009 Poetry Special Feature|
Field Trip Through the Conservatory of Flowers, San Francisco
Sumac thrives in this sluggish air,
and chameleons rotate their turret eyes
among the greening branches.
I half expect stone age tribesmen
to stare at us between the fronds.
Light is liquid, pours through a glass ceiling,
shimmers among the pond's giant lilies.
The indoor gutters shine with water.
But this jungle also disappoints, a cupboard
of vanilla, cinnamon and coffee plants.
It isn't what I've come for.
While my mother fingers the petals
of orchids I search
for footprints of Hadrosaurus
among the mossy floors.
Dragonflies glide through the air.
Staghorns brood in the cypresses.
I carry home dreams of a Cycad world.
My mother boasts to friends that
I'm learning about the Eco system.
All night I lie in bed dreaming
not of insects and orchids
but of T-Rex thrashing
through the ferns.