Even as Gaea sings her last Ode
To mankind, her voice is unable
To drown out the echo of the souls
That once lived–
Replaying like a magnified death
Loop, the cities we once cherished
Are now burdened to hold stories
Of a civilization lost to decay.
As her roots overtake these hollowed
Structures, twisting around metal
Cityscapes. The impressions are residual
Pieces of humanity that Gaea mourns.
She watches them sit in their rusted
Chairs, continuing on about their day,
Their otherworldly presence empty of
Her vitality, yet remain unbroken by decay.
They drink their rancid, rotting coffee
From landfill cups. Shades still wait
Underground by train tracks, Eagerly
Waiting for Chiron to arrive at her call.
The rigid and harsh pavement
Has begun to crack and overcrowd
With weeds and small budding flowers.
As Gaea reminds us: Life continues on.
Transplanted from Florida to Colorado, Jem Fisher (he/they) is an aspiring librarian, transgender poet, and short fiction writer that enjoys intermingling horror with the queer experience. They graduated from The University of Central Florida’s Creative Writing Program and has been featured on Horror Struck Podcast’s “Reading in the Dark” series. His work has been featured in Hexagon SF Magazine, Morning Fruit Magazine, and Saga City.