#finalpoem: 11/16/15

the glacier gods slough off hunks of ice
and throw it into the sea at an unprecedented rate

in Greenland, babies wait outside the general store
snug in plastic-bundled strollers
taking peace in the fact that civilization has ended before

the giant foreheads of past worriers crackle under my boot
as I trek across their faces, not remembering the name of their gods

yes, the meteor hurtles toward us, with it’s own god watching over
yes, even the godless space trash has a god

the man cuts across five lanes of traffic
and accidentally introduces his god to the motorcyclist’s god

yes, god in this poem even when we’re weary