Chlorophyll
by Scott Slemmons
The park is sweltering
& choked with greenery
Vines & creepers swarm over fences
playgrounds
cars
picnickers
The sun beats down without mercy
& a well-dressed young man
points at me angrily
& shouts gibberish
"Nahn stirklon!"
he yells
"Vaankh ahn stallk! Natuste manankha!"
He almost spits with rage
while across the park
children laugh & sing
as they leap into a swimming pool
It is filled with mossy green water
The filters are strangled with weeds
& the children quickly sink from sight
giggling like well-fed hyenas
Parents & teenagers sun themselves by the pool
& a moss-crusted lifeguard rots quietly atop her perch
The concession stand has completely mildewed
The pickles in the plastic jar have started to sprout
"Dizhtul abent Olosto"
the man snarls at me
his hands clenched & trembling
He pulls a vine off his arm
His rage grows
His face purples
His ranting loses yet more coherence
And with a final howl of anger
he rushes at me
fingers hooked into talons
wickedly sharp & gleaming
He is stopped by a sprouting sapling
It catches him in the chest
pushes through him
& splits him open as
it thickens into an ancient oak
Its bark is spotted with lichen
& seeping with gore
Vines & tulips begin
to crawl up the trunk
I sit back
eat my sandwiches
& watch the emerald children gurgle & swim
© 1999 by Scott Slemmons