Today in preparation for the apocalypse
I memorize the label
of my favorite cosmetic highlighter.
If I leave my room exploding
sparkles, do not regard me. We in the dark
are species: endless, like jazz, thoughts
that will be told. Clear black bottles
of ink with the potential to be
anything, or simply to define
the eyes, whose dramas
renew. I hear we’ve got two
warm days left, though the weather
app won’t tell me of yesterday,
only curations of the worst
world events. I suspect the love of
everything at once from a small animal.
I question if we can do anything for the dead,
and why I ever bought Christmas themed
underwear, why I picked a smoking jacket.
We are absolutely full of wasted days.
Somebody coughs into the subway intercom.
Georgia Slavec’s work has previously appeared in Just Poetry!!! Quarterly. Born and raised in Minnesota, she is currently an undergraduate student of poetry and photography at Bennington College in Vermont.
Image: ausmetics.com
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