Apocalyptic poems, posted every m-f.


when the supply lines cease
on account of highway three collapsing,
this guy starts offering a bounty on aluminum

says tin foil’s too thin, but anything thicker will do
pays in potatoes and other roots – turnips, beets,
something new that doesn’t have a name yet

if you manage to bring him something in sheet form
he grins, missing teeth –
replaces the sweat on his brow with dirt
and pays extra

we spend the summer in abandoned carports, with a crowbar and a hoe
grinning stupider every time new metal
hits the pile, scratchy thunderclap like applause

we get lazy, and fuck up the recon,
and halfway through a gig: lurching shotgun moment.
you hit the concrete hard, your signature spanning the carport’s full width

the homeowner stares scared, at me
his eyes whispering a lonely apology,
his shotgun smoking nonchalantly despite his sincerity

i leave you, and the metal siding, and the man, and the shotgun

i run, as far as my shocked body will let me
before collapsing like thunder
after lightning


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