Part of the Spell

There are red-eyed Rex's

with long lithe lizard tails

that wrap around tree trunks,

affixing them while they stare

out for prey

—they slipped through time somehow—

(an affront to humanity and progress)

to unpeel the hubris

from the bones of humans

and their short story written

on geologic time maps…

somehow it has fallen to me

and my oldest friend

to wield witchy water spells

over an abandoned dam:

bring the water back

that floats and floods them

to their own mega scales

and high oxygen dome

yet the doubt cripples my

hands, my voice

though knowing I must take the leap,

I do

and so do you

We met our folks in a quaint,

bare-bones resto after

but no one wants to talk about

what happened

(especially not the boomers)

and I keep pushing back

from the table

and padding quiet soles

of velvet feet

down the short hallway

to the tiny bathroom, to readjust

my body

and my expectations

because I know that, too

is part of the spell