At times, I guess, it was too much for me:
I fled into that ruinous city
Where scaffolds rise, and great roads made of stone
Are cracked by weeds and building sheets of loam.
My sneakers, heels compressed with air, recoil
As I'm launched up. Imperfect as airfoil,
My arms fly out, to stabilize the flight.
Too awkwardly I land up in the heights,
And smack my knee down on a pipe. I stand,
The sunken streets laid out below. Once-grand
Long boulevards and skyscrapers now list
And crumble. I leap out into their midst,
Spring off a standing pillar with one foot,
And let my shoes absorb the force, hands put
In front to catch a railing to steady
Myself. Bright static grows already in
The air: an ion storm billowing to
The west. I'd planned more time to make it through
The city: now I jump down in a rush.
A mound of soil below, my legs thrust
Forward to take the blow: I see too late
The flimsy roof beneath, and easily break
Through. Lying spread under the hole I gaze
Up at the sky. For moments I lie dazed
And lost. Then liquid touches to my cheek,
And I'm awake: so startled, cold, and weak,
I wonder now how long I've been asleep.
The rain is falling through the hole and seeps
Into the littered floor where I now crouch.
Its acid sizzles. I fish in my pouch
For my dried strips of meat. I think I'm stuck
Until the storm blows past. It's more bad luck
After the year I've had. I snuggle in
Among the trash and leaves and my buckskin,
Ignoring thoughts of home and mom, how she
Will wait and worry, will grow more sickly:
And what I'll find when I return. I hope,
And throw my hopes to the kaleidoscope
Of acid rain and blue electric whips
That fill the sky. My own apocalypse.
No comments:
Post a Comment