Post Consumer
by

Repentance
came too late.

Death had passed...
kissing blistered skin
hushing pained cries
soothing all the pains
with forever sleep.

We slipped beneath
the acrid smog, smoke
and smelters to dream of
greener places and no
tumors in the morning…

...because there are no
mornings—not for us.

We were laid to waste
by our waste. The apocalypse
was not fire and brimstone
singing angels and flaming sword.
It was slow, seeping death
sinking into the pores, spores
of progress propelling us
and expelling us.

Consumers gone
post-consumer
because repentance
came too late.

Forums: 
New Poems