The Circle

The following poem was presented at the Jersey City Writers’ monthly genre event–Worlds of Ruin: A Literary Celebration of Apocalyptic Science Fiction. Please enjoy.

Where to land?

A plane circles, not knowing,

smoking without emotion,

an SOS to anyone left.

Far from the sea,

jellyfish bubble and boil

over, time eroding any hope.

We are leaving

Earth without question.

The red waves below cannot be

crossed without Moses.

The continents are

broken like bread.

Sent into space, we are

his people.

 

 

His people,

sent into space, we are

broken like bread.

The continents are

crossed without Moses.

The red waves below cannot be

Earth. Without question,

we are leaving

over time, eroding any hope.

Jellyfish bubble and boil

far from the sea,

an SOS to anyone left.

Smoking without emotion,

a plane circles, not knowing

where to land.

 

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