A Premonition

It will be funny to see them when they've
Become refugees: corpulent Yankees,
Standing forlornly, next to their planet-
Destroying machines, trying to soothe their
Jellyfish kids, who, having been hidden in
Basements from birth, burn like kindling
Under the sun. They ask those who pass
If they've gas they can spare, but this is America.
Nobody shares. The Chinese are coming.
McDonalds has closed. The empire's
Fallen, and its pampered citizens
Don't know where they ought to go.



Poetry by Lawrence Beck The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 62 times
Written on 2020-08-21 at 02:49

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