Over,
it’s over,
over and over and
over again.

It’s over I know,
and it just goes to show
that what’s happened before
will happen again
as we lie on our backs
and dream of the end…

-

Two nights on from the Fallout.
forty-eight cycles of this battered hour-hand,
and still the fires from the East burn bright in the night.
upon these hills, home is a macabre panorama;
a parody of surrealist daydreams.

Against this scene, hands clasp.
I look around, and down, then back into those eyes.
“This is the end,” I say. “We’re nothing in the face of this—”
An interruption, as another tower falls to ground
like so many broken matchsticks.

We clutch, falling in like a fever
or the crashing of striken aircraft to the Earth.
Two nights on from the Fallout, when 13 commandeered
titanic passenger aircraft rained down upon us.
A sigh. “I love you,” she whispers.

-

It’s over I know
and it just goes to show
that what’s happened before
will happen again
as we lie still on our backs
and still dream of the end…

Over and over and
over again,
it’s over,
over.