He did not say you were a crash survivor

Only that you postponed


In an era between

Earth seconds

On a planet where

Hold-onto things


And re-form, like something less human

More nimble

While the candy-store gangsters

And digital priests

Tell us otherwise

And so on, etc.,

When we returned in our sharp suits

We shed them,

our hot bodies tattooed, dotted,

like code,

Our old robes stained and dismissed,

lost to lovingly find gold and fight the fire,

your pockets were bulging, my son

and dry leaves in the wind outside a distance palace are twitching

or would you call it dancing?

while we need to waste another one,

and we need to try again

don’t think again about the birds and the prophets

especially the birds,

who have stopped singing their lovely songs about lesser dimensions


Joseph Charles Mollica

Joseph Charles Mollica is a writer originally from Queens, NY.

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