by Stephen Jarrell Williams
They say it will be the end of the world
Soon
Cities blazing with blue flame
You're swallowing hard sitting in bed
Staring across the room at the mirror
I'm massaging your bare back
Window fan blowing in cool
Outside blur of what will come
You whisper
There's no way out of this
Our house between dying
Memories and desperate hope
Only some will survive
In the new garden of ashes
You sigh
Turning to me smiling
Swishing your breasts side to side
Whispering
Let's burn the bed down.
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