Poetry from Web del Sol

  18 seconds before sunrise

Guess who. They trampled over everything
then let loose with missiles. Bombs burst in air
like hearts and orgasms.

A simple fix if they’d had a clue,
but they let it go untreated, let it fester and—
don’t make me go into details.

Clearly, something was misconstrued —
look how it turned out. Or the transmissions’
purposes were turned nefarious by other forces.

The aftermath is supposedly richly satisfying.
The question is how we can possibly
believe that after – well, you know.

Screaming is the secret word –
it’ll get you a pass in this new place
whereas before you would have been misdiagnosed

for sure. Your filters were merely broken.
You’re not paranoid when they really are orbiting,
sending signals and no, it was not always

so terrifying. Dawn is only this scary
after the blood-drunk groupies of war
fly through on reconnaissance.

They must have seen it coming,
the ones beep-beep-beeping the secrets
for mankind’s future happiness

from their equatorial orbit.
Can’t say how they took the news
of our destruction, but the horizon

bristles. Now, which horseman
is he? That doesn’t matter, does it?
The plots are already trampled anyhow.

It was that first false dawn
that drew this new one’s attention.
She was so ready for her close-up.

The pressure gathered over generations.
She flew in and the landscape sprouted
with mushrooms. Bright & golden

as Chanterelles — only this kind
makes ash of your bones. She arrives
with her necklace of skulls and her shriek,

her shriek, and that’s when it all really goes
to hell. Now she flies more terrible than ever.
She was once such a lovely thing.