Waiting for the end of the world
We stop
on the way to the island to buy food. We know
a hurricane
is coming. They say to hole up with
beer & Pop Tarts. I brought with me
a bottle of Becker. Now I buy potatoes
a week’s worth, the size of my hand
outstretched. If a storm comes, some creature
will eat it, will not suffer
from earth’s treasure rooted free.
Each morning we watch the waves for signs.
Each evening, bake a potato. Eat with butter.
Hold hands.
