Apocalyptic poems, posted every m-f.


in japan,
people will sleep on pillows stuffed with pigeon-feather
they will fry found cats as their sunday dinners

we would call these practices dirty,
but we will know nothing of it

others, i think it will be in argentina,
will kill widows at the funerals of their husbands
as a customary kindness

in the midwest
folks will lose the word for child,
and the sanctity of it

where you and i live,
we will kiss our prey goodnight
as we sever its carotid;
we will not bother spitting out its clumped fur until after it is gutted
and sectioned

i have dreamt of alaska,
and it is strange
families huddled into single beds, naked for heat

what the pundits would say, how the good townsfolk would shudder!
but they are all dead,
or far away
human life once again partitioned by mountains and oceans.

when the wires go dead,
we will be free again
free to do exactly what nature intended for us to do –

whatever that might be.


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