Apocalypse

When you throw a hand-
Ful of lawn darts into the air
Because a voice in your head
Tells you to–shout Heads-up!
Watch everyone at the BBQ
Geegaw skyward, & then after
Cleaning up the mess, start collecting
Bottled water, SPAM. From then on,
Nothing in your life will ever be
Dire, but, sorry to break it to you,
The end is coming soon. So, drive
With no hands, charge into oncoming
Traffic. Eat those eggs that were best
By sometime last year. You are
One of the chosen—don’t think
Too much about what’s happening
Around you. Listen to me, now—
Let me in. There’s a tremendous
Amount of untapped energy
In staring straight ahead. Hold on
To that. Be positive. A very famous
Person once said that anyone can
Quit smoking but it takes
A real man to face cancer. Buy
Truck nuts & attach them
To your belt. The last days
Will be vivid—practice
For the end by wrapping, again
& again, the cat in Saran Wrap.
Booby-trap the yard with spike-
Sharpened wooden spoons. Sit
Like a pretty little lotus, reading
Survival manuals. It doesn’t
Matter if it’s in the basement
Or you’re spear-fishing at the
Bottom of the pool—you’ll no
Longer hear the naysayers
& their ugly living. Don’t waste
One tear on all those meatsacks
You called friends. You’re only
About the good shit now—
Bring on that everloving jelly.

 


Moriah Erickson is a writer and a sleep tech. She lives in Duluth, MN. She holds a BA from the College of St. Scholastica and an MFA from Fairfield University.


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