Wednesday, October 17, 2018


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.

Dorothea Lasky
Wave Books 2007