The fevered dreams of our childhood

that we should hear the siren’s wail

Underground to waste

or remain to perish

Maybe fight on in a leftover world

Two flavors in the cupboard

Constant fear

or blissful ignorance

Grown up, chose the latter

aided with poisons of choice

The giant hotplate

for a nation of frogs

Graduated from apocalyptic nightmare

to an extinction fantasy

 

Plum and fuchsia blossoms

all fallen now

Dead and brown in undergrowth

Spark of light

lit the fuse

Green tides follow

ungrateful, unknowing

from whence they’ve been wrought

When two fortnights have passed

the waves recede

Their supple skin to wither

shed to the earth

Languish in the damp

food for springtime spores

Or burn upon pyres

an offering

to unnamed gods

What would we be

to shed our own with such ease

No ash, no dust, only clay

Sunlight glistens upon velvet

hairs upon the stalks

They bend at the weight

of pods suspended

In shadows of their sisters

Cosmos blossom, pink, orange, red

They sway together, seduced

by the west wind’s gentle kiss

Their afternoons eternities

Timeless while time runs out

Swimming in a sea of green

with amber, scarlet, violet

in field and glade

sun or shade

Upon grass oceans

Beneath woodland canopies gracious

The whitetail’s abode

this land of splendor

A creature only food

for beasts no less noble

While we assail ourselves

bludgeon our bodies

with concrete, steel, light and sound

Kill ourselves slowly

trying to recreate what was ours

Til we pass to no greater purpose

We’re not even meat

The lights blink

Suddenly I itch all over

It’s a phase, it passes

The sedation takes hold

and just for a time

the crushing noise abated

Only my own sick thoughts

and the ringing in my ears

to console me

As I am awarded

Condemnation

Lacks presentation

Morose lamentations

of all the best intentions

No hoary thunderer

or sunny cosmic muffin

greets you at the finish to say

Oh, they meant well