driving past almond trees soaking in dust
you want me to sing some little tune but
I don’t have a song for the end of the world
so I play make-believe with you instead
you’re good at pretending what you’re not
and unseeing all the things you have seen
for you there’s no orange sky flickering rust
no thoughts no prayers no snags stacked
on the hillside like fire-blackened graves
you say this game has only two easy rules:

we can be anything but human and
we can be anywhere but here

originally published by Variant Literature