Science Fiction - Gregory Sherl

[highlyeccentric]

I step outside for a smoke & it’s obvious the world
is ending. Someone let the poets out & they’re
eating all of the birds. Something, a swallow
& it does just that. I am talking about our secret
language, I am talking about how we moan to go.
Earthworms bake into crust while a meteor flies
over Russia. Windows give up. Let’s say some
miles go another way, & here I mention
dinosaurs. An ape becomes human, feels dirty
from the waist down. To taste your shoulders blush.
The kindling of an oven. The weather that drips down you.
To go tidal wave, this chocolate cake kind
of feeling. Find me in the shed, putting jet packs
on the backs birds. Find me dropping ice
from the sky, keeping everything the temperature
from the afternoon at the bar.