Before the end of the world we went

looking for more, on the shores of our

fated apocalypse. We dug bottomless

graves in devastated sand dunes and shoveled

more wet dirt, laid down in drawn out

motion, squinting at the sun with pirated

retinas and dirty fingernails. We sent

silent messages to the people beneath

the sea who lost us on purpose, for we

had gills but used them to suffocate Atargatis,

the sea goddess. On the final night, we found

an old piano on the pier, struck an irrevocable

tune at the full moon, staring blindly at its

waxed edges until it short-sighted us,

our heads submerged in a trash mountain

of more, crystal shaped viscous water

gleaming helplessly into fractal ice.