poems

we'll ration our estrogen after the collapse. break into pharmacies and stock up best we can, this is all we've got

and through the hot flashes and brittle bones, the eunuchs will laugh around the fire, and worship the earth

in her dew and her mud and her leaves, we'll drink clean and pure of our bodies, microplastic shreds of synthetic blues and reds flutter quietly on shattered asphalt

we grow soy beans and sweet potatoes in the hills and the chickens clear their patch for next year, and the dykes down the street come over to play cards

in time, you learn to forget everything you take for granted, and speak only the words you create.

and the boys 40 years into their hometown, play with their guns in the woods, but here we sing and set up speakers in the back room, bassy and blown out, and we find the things our hearts were trying to tell us about