And here it is. “It” the finality so long that distant rumble
that odd invisible unease ghostflesh thick and beyond fingertip touch
the accumulation sensed so long among the news stories of once sci fi dystopia
that awaited rogue wave in even most placid ocean and shore
the serrated edge of dreams in a 20 min nap like a future teethes on the ambiguous at will
“It” was water from melted ice….heat from a cruel sun…….an unhumanity arising shadow
past tense was both a skin and border…….was also the pain of vagueness..
we are flesh and bone in the shared text of so many dystopic narrative arcs
graphic novels and old sci fi burst upon this earth festering…bloating….real..
and as the end nears may these words blow away pale
may this text show to be the flimsiest of houses
may the cuniform curl and rest
Jeremy Hight is the author of the short story collection “I am the ghost here”. His memory walk poems are published at aglimpseof.net
