Thursday, April 12, 2012

NaPoWriMo Day 12: Untitled (because I am lazy in the face of the apocalypse)

You tell me how long it will take
for the Sears Tower to crumble
in on itself like a star. Water will
be our undoing. You tell me

the pillars of bridges will stand
long after their roads have fallen,
but dead gods are no good
to anyone. Corn will shrink

to the size of a finger bone. The word
"bone" will mean nothing. Grass
will cover the streets ankle, hip,
waist-high––we measure the world

by our bodies and without them
the world still grows. Our untouched
oases––nature preserves like
fenced-in jewels––holding

the key to before in after. You say
the stars will again be nameless.

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