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SNAP
POEM 6
Will you be wearing your mask to the Apocalypse? It could determine the company you keep. Be safe. Got a plan? You have to think where you might go. Hot or cold? Will you be young or old? Rich? Poor? How will you feel when you step through the door?
Apocalyptic planning can exhaust a normal person. So we’ll be packing kindness. Humor. Nurturance. Tolerance and patience always suffer from overuse.
Earth, our beloved home, seems wanting to be rid Of us. I feel it convulsing. When whole towns burn Into blackness and their trusty family automobiles, Incinerated in their driveways, bleed rivers of metal That run into the gutters beside melted street signs, You know something is wrong and the world stops.
The mind snaps walking into these non-places.
I’m packing cookies in my Go Bag now, and goodies From my willing and generous trees, that feed me in all ways. Images of them, green and waving, will live In the memory, in the jam, in the hard drives, in my Go Bags. Hard drives seeking a plug-in, somewhere. Power, WiFi, ATT, connections to a world still there?
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