we will be loved…
we may be loved…
we will…
in the catatonia to come, be unresolved, sleeping in strange narcosis
those of us still barely alive those of us not swallowed by a sun engorged
now redder than the shame of heaven our inglorious travelling at an end
our ignominious selves having arrived precisely nowhere
the seas will have risen by then and swallowed so much having too long
swilled our cauldrons of waste and stirred them till we drowned
devoid of birds the air will have descended like smog
a halo of rot around heads we once construed as wise
which now only shake to clear the amnesia of squandered time
it will have come to this …
it will come to this…
if not tomorrow then the day after the barren lands will be our home
our homes will be rubble the earth herself will have quaked her last
and the last hurricane eye will have looked in despair
at what its last remaining weather will rain upon us
the poisoned ground will have furrows so deep with nothing
that the harvest of nothing will only serve starvation to every living thing
even the rich in their hollowed enclaves will survey how little they have
and pry on the poor as they die among heaps of the already dead
only then will their glossed lips ask who will clean the drains
who will crawl in our wakes to put away our left over lives
and who will give us praise and raise us up as should be
and oh god who will buy whatever pointless goods we have to sell
before we too shrivel like the poor before us and waste away
in the mess we paid for with our entitlement?
there will…
be a tomorrow of a kind even when the red giant sun gnaws the moon
when the earth crackles like an cinder and orbits in its ended days like a stone
tomorrow…
today, we pay little heed to it except as a place to hide our profit
but there will be… there will have been… a reckoning
when wilderness will be the last legacy of human stupidity and no
we did not care for what we had when the future was so far away
before that distant future when everything will be done
we could have understood what gods we were
we could have understood that ‘thy will be done’ was our will after all?
but no… too late…
our will was done
our narrow selfish will
then we were gone
© BH, 2018
Sadly, none were accepted.
No feedback, so maybe they’re not up to snuff, too sci-fi, bleak or just plain weird. EP run an ongoing request for submissions so something is always coming up. I might well try again.
Find The Emma Press at - https://theemmapress.com - if you’re of a mind.
But here, the full sequence is Future Perfect, Future Imperfect and Future Revised.
No comments:
Post a Comment