soft apocalypse – Maria Mazzenga

Maria Mazzenga

neo-classicism sings the blues
the morning after

drooping purple domes
hardware scattered,
smoked out, spent,
out of rent

but at sunup

the ex-citizens are happy
countryless
having upended the tumult

the flag factories, gone–
without fires, fumes
or bullets

all the reasons to frown: against
evaporated
into seed clouds that might reign
in another century

let the garbage metamorph into fuels
for later millennia
find new arms
unbroken

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