Apocalypse of a Dead Woman
I held a torch for you and you did not come.
Ten thousand million years passed and
the crows, wings folded, fell from the sky.
There were too many to count.
The fence lines rolled into the horizon and
the wide open sea drained onto the continents.
The sun and moon overlapped more often,
causing confusion. Tides that used to rise gently
smacked about with no shores to kiss.
All of this happened in but a handful of minutes
on a dark, dark planet where nobody cared to look.
one light remained.
And when the work undid itself, the sea slinking
back to its bed between landmasses, the survivors
felt empty, dryness inside their mouths.
One said he tasted sand
and another said he tasted salt.
A mother said she tasted her missing baby
and an elder said there was nothing left to taste.
I said I tasted light, even on the darkest nights,
and that all the waves of the world had not
persuaded me of anything different.