Before The Apocalypse

Why do You want my attention?

The humming bird distracted me.

The cupboard, left open, gaped at me.

The white noise downpour fascinated me.

 

“Come,” You say, “and I will show you things.”

“Just a minute,” I say, “A field mouse. See it?”

I have this family to feed, and seed for the feeder.

My children will rise like an apocalypse.

 

You still want my attention?

“For a little while, before the questions, demands,

and heavy loads flop over your shoulder.”

You read my disheveled mind like a morning paper.

“It’s news to me, and I care.”

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