In 100 Years
Arid, barren, desolate
skeletons strewn carelessly
jarring parched landscapes
Tucked away under rocks and boulders
one-celled creatures huddle
motionless, gasping, wheezing
Noonday sun blisters
methane-enveloped tropics
the poles whistle as well
Oceans bubble, foam, boil
water sizzling, spitting lava
lifeless depths of charcoal ash
Far, far to the south in
Antarctica's heart, a creature's hand
stretches out from the deathly mixture
~ clutches at hell's horizon
May 30, 2018
In 100 Years Poetry Contest
Copyright © Gershon Wolf | Year Posted 2018
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