Category Thirteen

The wind whispers cyanide in my ear.
She is beautiful.
We’d forgotten what it meant to be alive.

They said the ground only quivered with impending catastrophe.
But we’d forgotten everything.

Insects fled the dirt, tried even to flee their hardened carapaces.
Birds dove from the sky.
Animals that could not swim sought out the rivers and lakes.
Men and women held their children tightly.

For what was coming, there would be no shelter.

The ground only quivered once more.

That is the story we were told,
Because we still don’t remember.

None now living remember Before.
There is only Now.
Only Today.
None living hope for a better Later.

We have forgotten the words Brighter and Tomorrow.

We are.
Simply and utterly.

Now the ground is silent.
Still.
Dead.

We are.

Simply.

Utterly.

Now.

We.

. . .