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