Here we are at the end of the world

Clouds gape and roar, thundering their pain
Fetid air blows from an oven door hot against faces
Heat dries eyeballs ears ring skin crawls
Hindbrain processes new and unknown into old fears
Crowded and herded by noise we look up
At the thing that is bursting through the atmosphere
Monstrous geometries writhing
Forcing and burning its path to us
Pushing our breath away
Blinding and deafening
Pushing us down until we prostrate on the mud
Afraid to look up as they look down
Death is upon us

Copyright © 2017 Kim Whysall-Hammond

(A Science Fiction poem first blogged in October 2015, now re-written)

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