What to Pack For the Apocalypse

by Nina Corwin

A faceless man runs down a pitched roof,
gladiators at his back. The dreamer wakes in free fall.

With a little help from erosion, the precipice approaches
at the buzz rate of killer bees.

When heads of state play chicken
on a cliff, the speed of the hotrod is everybody’s business.

What we have here is more than a failure to communicate
or a sloppy lot of rowdies butting heads in a mosh pit.

Winner With The Most Toys dukes it out with Can’t Take It
With You. Or are they running neck-and-neck?

If the life boat leaks, what to pack for the apocalypse
(iPad, change purse, teddy bear) is not the operative question.

A father-to-be boards a jet, suitcase bulging with worries.
At cruising altitude, he opens his tray table and the plane flips

upside down. Outside the window, a banner flaps.
Quit fussing, it says, you’re going one way or another.

Published on September 26, 2014