The End

The end of the world, it will be here soon
Like some far-off earthquake
Palming along and breaking
into my garden
hardening along the coast of Ecuador,
gutting the hot rubies of Colombia.

We seek shelter
Tadpoleing away this right, rushing day
I am here and it is there
Though it gets closer.
The moles uproot and the common robins
yowl and shoot away.
The washing line sways
with the last limp sock
and the places that I feel safe in
are whittling themselves away.

The water from its seabed rises at noon
and laves in my birdbath
lobbing its legs to the end of the tub
and shivering its way among the waves.
Soon my garden will be gone.
I tap at your breast with my pathetic paw
You are gone
You are over there
No you no more
Before I can even leave marks
with my claws.

All our objects becoming artefacts.
It is a fact that all is gone.
Everything chewed up
All in the name of the pain it took
to get you out of here.
The violence it takes to break
from an allwombing tomb.
The war you fought to get over there.

Your mother screaming in a hospital bed
As she tore you from her and let you go.
The common chaos that it took to become yourself
You unhorsed the rider, you divorced the guider
I put my hand in the sock and I look away.


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