Apocalyptic poems, posted every m-f.

like boots

it will be very tiresome,
everything

it will take days to boil tree sap into glue,
when our shoes fall apart
and must be bound, again.

it will take weeks to hear news,
anything

the trip to Vancouver will require
navigating a criss-cross of incomplete highways –
flat track switchbacks

we will be surprised how few can openers there are,
in the future.
we will spend minutes, perhaps seven,
cutting our way into a can of black beans or tomato paste

the future will be thick as mud,
our tasks heavy
like boots

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