End Rhyme
Blameless dinosaurs got the bang
and the whimper, knew those before
their fossils stole the limelight in tense
climate changing times. Does not have
to be our fate, my love. Ma Nature over-
sees all as we scrawl our story in clay,
in blood, in carbon pollution with
ape-like hand. Mind you, despite Eve
and common ancestor, apes had Jane,
were less homicidal, less matricidal.
Thawing glacier, rising tide, flood
playing tag with its opposite. Salt,
wind, dust. Hunger of uninvited guests
who won’t go home, expect bed and
breakfast despite a shortage of cereals,
good will and an old rule wrought
from overpriced yellow metal. That one.
There is, however, a glut of guns, racy
rumours, plastic and sewage not all
of which should be recycled.
Common sense superseded by nasty non-
sense queueing like so many mosquitoes
on bright window screen, on that darkling
plain just off an abbreviated Dover Beach
where the ancient snake of history and
indulgent regret is long and without point
if these be the doors that lead to the end
of two tipsy steps forward, of what turns
out to be a one-time chance to be.
Love, try to hang on to my hand
as we ditch the life that we had planned.
about the artist
Allan Lake is a migrant poet from Allover, Canada who now lives in Allover, Australia. Coincidence. He has published poems in 20 countries. His latest chapbook of poems, entitled ‘My Photos of Sicily’, was published by Ginninderra Press. It contains no photos, only poems.
Image generated on DreamStudio
YOU MAY ALSO LIKE…
New poems by M.P. Powers
Leave a Reply