Apocalyptic poems, posted every m-f.

skate

you leave me for a man named sundance
and at first this angers me,
i spit on rocks and scream at anything

the visions return to me
like a flood,
motion pictures of open road
the two of you in cities i don’t know the names for

sundance clutching his breath,
the two of you poised on half-solid skyscrapers –
maybe new york, maybe elsewhere

i watch you learn to drive shift,
scale a building, pull sparks from a bow drill,
i watch you learn how to tie shoelaces again
the day sundance finds you a pair of dusty old rollerskates,
shattered sections of what might be san francisco
get caught in your teeth, as you feast
together.

even from my vantage point of fever dreaming,
his smile irradiates me
leaves me glowing.

and i’m not sure i know how to hate any more.

don’t get confused about what apocalypse means,
it means the moment where you don’t die
won’t die
and have to start surviving.

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