The Well-Populated Apocalypse

Then the opposite obtained
For a little while at least—

You know that favorite scene
Of apocalyptic tales,

Where the protagonist wakes
To find out no one remains

Except the protagonist,
Lone person left in the world?

This protagonist woke up
In a jam-packed waiting room,

In a crowded building, in
A roaring city, crammed night,

No one appearing sickly,
Everyone looking well-fed.

That this was the real
Ending of the world occurred

To approximately no one
Until the dwindling took hold,

And by then it was too late.
Everyone? Let’s meet our fate!

Hidden Lines

The lines seem to want to hide
Themselves away from being
Labeled as just poetry.

They’d rather be personas,
People in costume as verse,
Or fierce creatures parading

Their evolved adaptations,
Occasionally sparring
Or preying on each other.

Each time you look at a line
You imagine moving scenes
Of stern character actors,

But not with words, not as words,
But as birds handy with words . . .

Hidden Lines

The lines seem to want to hide
Themselves away from being
Labeled as just poetry.

They’d rather be personas,
People in costume as verse,
Or fierce creatures parading

Their evolved adaptations,
Occasionally sparring
Or preying on each other.

Each time you look at a line
You imagine moving scenes
Of stern character actors,

But not with words, not as words,
But as birds handy with words . .

Swear You’ll Never Tell

Most individuals are awful
At holding secrets. That’s the reason
For the moldy feeling at the back

Of the store, forever
Implicit threat to a pretty
Emotion, decrepitude,

The tepid sewer water
Of mere family drama,
The reason real families

May involve screaming and rage
But rarely revelation
Of the kind belovéd by

Good storytellers, cherished
By an enthralled audience.
And if individuals

Are weak, families are worse—
The great family secrets
Always less secret than myth.

It’s the sad look at table
Everyone has of knowing
What everyone and no one

Really ever wants to know
What no one really wants to know,
Sadness without a secret.