He did not say you were a crash survivor
Only that you postponed
Death
In an era between
Earth seconds
On a planet where
Hold-onto things
Shatter
And re-form, like something less human
More nimble
While the candy-store gangsters
And digital priests
Tell us otherwise
And so on, etc.,
When we returned in our sharp suits
We shed them,
our hot bodies tattooed, dotted,
like code,
Our old robes stained and dismissed,
lost to lovingly find gold and fight the fire,
your pockets were bulging, my son
and dry leaves in the wind outside a distance palace are twitching
or would you call it dancing?
while we need to waste another one,
and we need to try again
don’t think again about the birds and the prophets
especially the birds,
who have stopped singing their lovely songs about lesser dimensions
Joseph Charles Mollica
Joseph Charles Mollica is a writer originally from Queens, NY.
