Quake Poem by Wyn Cooper
Quake
Seismic disturbances
disturb us, size us
up for future reactions
to movements of earth.
Inhalations of breath
mean life is still here,
dodgy as it is on Mars
where we all belong, red
dirt space cowboys on fire,
liars who never leave home
for store or space station,
impatient to carry on
with our sci-fi lives,
the hives of bees we keep
for times like these, buzzing
like those who caused them.
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4/18/2024 9:30:33 PM # 1.0.0.1119
