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