Breadcrumb #164
FREDDIE MOORE
The croton plant you give me
comes with tiny dinosaurs —
a t-rex. A stegosaurus.
“They make its leaves seem so much
bigger” you say, as if the whole love
in buying it was prehistoric —
this world you want to give me
that had only shown itself in quiet
trips to bone lost-and-founds.
This control you found in
a world where none of the
creatures had deadly teeth.
We watered the plant. Admired it.
Safe for a year before the leaves
dried back into the ground.
It’s become a tradition
for all our new plants. Each time
we control paradise:
We let the dinosaurs
outlive the earth again.