Forecast 2030

By | 1 February 2020

this just in
clouds are strung higher than any cello
or even the riches of the world’s elite bigger,
more ominous, as shady as the last time somebody
on TV was read to filth kindergarteners keep
saying the sun is angry and we laugh it off
because we are adults now like our parents
looking back more often than usual looking away
from where we’re headed we know it is
morning because there’s a black veil above cities
woven from the puffs of exhaust
pipes and crematoriums the premise here:
persistence meaning the light at the end of a tunnel
or the blood of the covenant being thicker than
the water in the womb we wonder
if it’s still right to give birth crows do not turn
white but we do now we leave a trail of rose
thorns instead of rose petals
nothing follows

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