three years

The New York times says
we'll all be dead
in three years;
and the guns that could have procured power,
land, and excess
won't mean shit.

Ancient calendars aren't divided by lines
boxed up into little squares
stacked on top of each other
and on the sides
so that each day suffocates just a little more than the last.

Ancient calendars stood up and yawned
arms outstretched,
extending beyond themselves,
unfolding
deep breathing
like old wise men in the morning

sweat doesn't drip down my back
like it used to.
The seas rise and the ice melts and the
hole
gets
bigger

hyperbaric chambers are over-priced and
overrated
anyway.