The world doesn’t end. -Charles Simic I carefully explain survival in nuclear winter I cannot tell you the codes but the seed banks are slowly emptying fields of wheat flattened by dust roads sinking into the desiccated aquifers the earth’s mass shrinks daily the elevator above the desert grows and grows and grows a silver ribbon that looks farther and farther away as we climb the mesa scaling tombs dyed with bloody handprints they too clawed against the hardscrabble scorpion landscape dreaming of cool black space worshipping an image of blue marbled satellites circling a gentler sun gold green soft our dry lips healed with water. ✱✱✱
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