Issue Ten - October 2006


by Colleen Smith Armstrong

the sky will be black
ashen limbs falling at my feet
torn hearts bleeding in the grass
brown rabbits, green grasshoppers, black crows, red foxes
all scrambling in herds of dust and blood and pain
past my melting body
and my disintegrating eyelashes,
blowing away in the wind.
it will be empty fields of scorched wheat
and crushed forest,
it will be violence and terror­
and still
my selfish heart
will wonder
who will love me?

©Colleen Smith Armstrong