Echosystem

He wanted to plant
A little absence
Like a seed, a hole

Out of which one world
Could pour into another.
He patted the dirt
And waited to watch it grow.

Forget-me-nothings
Rooted thin tendrils,
A void exploring its voice.

Every monster is alive,
And life’s the only monster,
But wants stirred that weren’t alive,
Their dark fronds furred in gone words.