Lifeboat Earth
written by: Brian Rihlmann
I get my coffee at the drive-thru
because the store’s closed
I park in the spot
closest to the WiFi
facing East
there’s nothing to write about
I sit as the wind blows
shakes the branches of the trees
the decorative shrubs and grasses
I sit as the stars disappear
and the sky lightens
behind Rattlesnake Mountain
I sit and think
about ruined travel plans
about leaving town anyway
and sheltering out in the desert
until it’s over
I think how every image I’ve seen
of the virus
looks so beautiful
like a strange unearthly flower
blooming like these here
on the cherry tree
wanting so much
to live
to bear fruit
to spread and survive
so many things
wanting so much
to survive
like it
like us
Brian Rihlmann was born in New Jersey and currently resides in Reno, Nevada. He writes free verse poetry, and has been published in The Blue Nib, The American Journal of Poetry, Cajun Mutt Press, The Rye Whiskey Review, and others. His first poetry collection, “Ordinary Trauma,” (2019) was published by Alien Buddha Press.
Latest posts by Brian Rihlmann (see all)
- Lifeboat Earth - April 13, 2020
- Asking The Question - January 5, 2020
- The Lies of Constellations - June 4, 2019
