“I don’t have much left in me”
he said when the sky crashed in
and collided with the pool, creating
infinite vibrations, worlds smothering,
apartment complexes shaking at the root,
leasing agents bouncing helplessly
like fresh popcorn. He wondered if the
autistic kid in the water with the yellow noodle
saw all of this, the rapture,
but he seemed so wrapped up in his floaty toys
that nothing- not even the end of the world-
could interrupt his play.


Leave a comment

Filed under poetry, published work

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s