even though it’s all switched off, a constant hum

the world is finally ending and everyone is in the street fucking

and we cling to this awful rock while somewhere a wild dog rips a child

to pieces, its jaws locking together like lovers hands on a cold night as they

explore the cartography on their wrists, laughing at the idea they

will ever be old and spitting softly in aching, welcome mouths

the world is finally ending and everyone is in the street fucking,

a farewell sunset behind them and nothing ahead but the fire-black ribs

of their homes. the trees are burning like funeral pyres, the pine needles

crackle like a lonely radio. the roads are melting like hot tears

and the buildings are leering, beautiful.

 

~~~

Stuart Buck is a poet and artist living in North Wales. His debut collection of poetry, Casually Discussing the Infinite, peaked at 89 on Amazons World Poetry chart and his second book Become Something Frail will be released on Selcouth Station Press in 2019. When he is not writing or reading poetry, he likes to cook, juggle and listen to music. He suffers terribly from tsundoku – the art of buying copious amounts of books that he will never read.

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