Fragmentary Phage Genomes

Settled into a comfortable
Lagrange point with a good view of Earth,
What would the apocalypse look like

You wonder, leaning on the counter,
Patiently watching some water boil—
Like this? Little pinpricks bubbling up

To flutter the surface from below?
A kind of foamy ruffling of clouds?
Maybe a dimmish grey would disperse

And render the clouds opaque a while
Even above beige swaths of desert,
But then back to the pretty marble,

Gleaming, once more quietly busy
Living. In space, you’d hear no one scream.