Anastomosis

When the bombs have settled

I will walk towards you

steaming glass crunching

between my callused toes,

breathing in the marshmallow air.

Once all the building have crumbled

and all that can be seen for miles

are the stems of undulating

black smoke and the fingered

breaths of mid morning

you’ll wave at me across the street.

We can take naps in the silo

eating peanut butter and banana

sandwiches until they are

too soft to even melt in our mouths.

Then I will melt in your mouth

and it will all be better again.

Years from now,

nobody will remember

what it smelled like when the

world ended.

Pickled litter combusting

with wine in the depths of

the river.

When the silhouettes converge

into one massive terror

I will bury my head in your neck

and I’ll sniff at what the beginning

smelled like.

Then, we’ll start

to repopulate the world