the apocalypse did not come, no
noxious invisibility unleashed, in the shock
waves of humanity self-destructing
trailing in its wake scorched earth.
the final catastrophe far
more quotidian than that
landscape forever altered.
a phone call, a test strip, the future
obliterated, suddenly, silence
where there was song, desolation
where there was hope, survivors
are we all, picking our way
through the wasteland
piecing together a life.
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