Apocalyptic poems, posted every m-f.

the subway

where you live, the cityscape goes toxic
and everyone moves down
into disconnected lengths of uncollapsed subway tunnel

in your tunnel
they pray, everyone prays: you pray
and whenever a prayer gets answered,
so commandeth your leader,
it gets written on the tunnel wall
an aerosol tapestry

choking gas sensation of god

where i live, after the apocalypse
there are no subway tunnels
are no gods
are no tapestries save this:

i write to you,
every day
sending my letters down the river in wax-sealed bottles;
prayers, never answered.


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