The Last Live Act Poem by Nancy Ames

Some day, when this yellow sun is
dying in a crimson sky and a tangle
of phosphorescent, all-consuming
vegetation covers up the earth's
shame and ruin, the robots will
keep some poets in concrete cages,
just in case they need a new idea.

And then the robots will drag one
of the weak, timid creatures out
into the spotlight and watch it trying
to stay alive in the depleted air for
just one more precious minute of
what the poet calls 'consciousness'.

And then, when the life-force bursts
like a beautiful bubble out of the poet's
open mouth and it bows its head in
death, grinning like a fool, the entire
audience will stand up and applaud
like a lot of automatons on holiday.