Make My Bed? But You Say the World’s Ending
When the apocalypse didn’t come
I knew my life was over.
College fund emptied
By parents who dragged us to Times Square
Bearing garbage bags full of
Bibles with cheap plastic covers
Mother will sit on the calico couch
Too dejected for dishes or showers or paying bills or cooking dinner.
Father ,too listless for working or mowing or speaking or protecting,
Devotes whole days to numerology and prayer
Like overgrown children, or lunatics,
They gave it all away for the rapture
Too witless to realize the sun would still rise,
Shedding light on our diminished future
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