Over to You

Things aren’t going well
You say to yourself,
Not for you or world.

Things aren’t yet quite
Gone to hell, of course,
But it’s all struggle

Recently—declines
In autonomy,
Declines in freedom,

More of a thicket
Of brush before you,
Thorns clawing at you,

Forms and costs for you,
Thieves and collectors
Clawing at your back.

That it’s all human—
Human dictators,
Human bureaucrats,

Human collectors
And thieves at your back—
Isn’t comforting.

The more desperate
The cannibals get,
The more it suggests

The outbreak isn’t
Over yet. Once things are
Going better or

You see the bodies
Crawling through the yard,
Biting each other,

You’ll have a clearer
View of whether it’s
All over for you.