After the Apocalypse There is Only the Apocalypse
The sun came streaming in
Melting the things in the room
The papers crumbled into a black heap
The furniture crawled and then disappeared
The fire in the sun is a person
He and I once ate lunch
On the moon we sat with a blanket and a picnic basket
He said the world before us is nothing compared
To the fire in his heart and the fire in God
That makes the whole world
Thump in a beating music, heartbeats and mountains
That makes the bluebird in the tree
Swoop down to a small river
And wet his silky blue body
A red worm in his mouth
And the sun a yellow light on his back.
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AWE
Dorothea Lasky
Wave Books 2007
