written by: Jeffrey Cyphers Wright
Agony—the inevitability of our demise.
We were spinning sugar when the giant
crutch fell short. The clocks running
for their lives. The city humming
like a freezer. A black caboose on ice.
You were making mushroom ragu.
I was admiring your industry, reading
the Metropolitan section. When
the denouement comes, look for me
in the cockpit handing out straws
to clutch at as we veer into a viral spiral.
The Empire State Building’s opal spire
slices into night. That’s how
I am now—a lightsabre, ready for hire.
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