“Borrowed time and borrowed world
and borrowed eyes with which to sorrow it.”
– Cormac McCarthy
Asphyxia. Choking on smog, like soldiers in a forgotten war,
Fatal crack in the glass lens of the gas mask
After stumbling in the filtered light.
Not waving but drowning.
The dead seas rising to envelop us.
Skeletons reclining on plastic islands.
No hum of bees. No flowers vibrating
In the cool of the morning. The trees do not blossom.
Bare ruined choirs, where late the sweet birds sang.
…in a handful of dust. The farms have
Dried up and blown away, even the insects starving.
If only there were rain. Dull orange sun in a sepia sky.
After the thunder, silence. Negation
Deeper than absence of sound. And she ran toward me,
Burning, eyes staring, mouth open but unable to scream through the flames.
Ashes falling like snow
Blanketing bare tree branches, deep on the ground.
Long sleep with no waking.