This is a themed poem inspired by Susan Daniels (if you don’t know her, you should).


No Second Sun

We wait for an apocalypse

Swear or curse or pray at it


In this we are like the long buried

Still fearing our deaths


There was no consumption

In a murderous nuclear sun


There was no explosion

Just a million tiny breaths


A thousand every day

In a pathetic decay


As our minds turned to profit

And love was left


This is hell


This is heaven as well


This is all there is


We wait for an apocalypse

So fail to see it exists


Not in the universal

Or some phenomenal scale


It is the beggar in the street

The clenched fist


It is each time you buy

The easier lie


It is our spiritual song

Turned into a shopping list


Thought by word by deed we slip

Into the slow apocalypse