Infinite freezing winds swept down from the heavens-
when the blasts and violet nights were but recent memory-
bitter, unnatural cold, the kind that kills all the songbirds,
so that everlasting quiet falls on the earth.

We waited until the stars returned, you and I-
fallen from the sky to the wails of air raid sirens;
they were there as if 'it' had never happened,
glaring down on us like tyrants.

We were never hungry, we promised each other-
Abraxas was to be our god, our savior. We had no
moral qualms, our prayers were to each other.
Only cold reality has us now

How did the poor souls of Easter Island survive,
when they cut the last tree to the ground,
and the food began to run out? We knew-
we hunted, leopards, you and I, lonely animals
who, for at least a little while, clung to each other.

Wet, sticky, and warm. Gamey, tough, slick as oil
Prey's eyes obstinately filled with life. Never eat
above the waist. It was important, but we forgot why.
But we were good, we were patient, and quiet. Better
than they. Hungrier.

I built a Geiger counter, and you laughed at me. Hunched
over a metal workbench in my grandfather's garage-
the screws were prayers, and lamentations. Misanthropy
preserve us.