Apocalypse
I see the oven lit from the center of the earth
The heat forcing apart the egg's brittle shell
And into the liquid sea of wrath, like mad birds
Diving for the fish by gravity's default, the crust
In scraps dissolved as things fall apart. Another scene
The towers falling amidst the dismal grey.
Babel is more than confusion, much, much more
The citadels of the human heart that roar and roar
Where the wind thresh in them, the howling winds
Of our eternal emptiness. After the towers were gone
I remember clog after clog of protoplasmic ash
Moving frantically like bubbles when flood waters churn
And there was no distinction with humanity again,
For class and creed was dissolved in pandemonium and fear
And we were barely specters in the livid air.
Worse, worse, the final coming of the curse
The beast out of the waters bowels making travail
Then the silence, the dark barren chaos of silence
Water upon water and land and mountains gone
And the water like the great football of the cosmos
Shuddering like another Leda for deity's coming
And the fire muted, blind, crippled, annihilated
And the morning stars singing sweetly that new song.
Copyright © David Smalling | Year Posted 2012
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