After Bertolt Brecht
From the cities we escape

             in vehicles laden, but quickly

abandon them
On highways and back roads

             leaving doors open and keys

in ignitions. We take
That which we can carry—

             babies, animals, their wide

eyes questioning our resolve, everything.
On sides of roads youths

             and middle-aged men explode

fuel tanks, as the props of their lives
Are lost—abandoned. Tweens

             traipse behind asking, what have you

done—look!
No one answers, the old women

             count wrinkles on their hands, look

what’s done is done…
Like coral in reefs all that’s left

             are thorns,

the flood has come—taken all.
Remember councils, they pulled all

             the fruit trees we planted

along verges.
And the child in her pram points to plumes

             of dust; we eat fire and heat. Scientists

think of how to measure now machines
Have ceased and whether water drinks light

more or less, now it’s so humid, so hot.
             Is anyone up there, can they see

             if we’re running out of air?