If armageddon were to suddenly rain
down on the world in flaming reality,
I would take you somewhere with me -
we'd hijack a car or hitch a ride in a truck
until our wheels broke down and then
we'd start walking, just us, fingers loosely entwined,
into a nuclear red distance where we'd
find some railway tunnel or bridge to hide under.
Both of us would curl up under your army jacket
against the lashing acid rain and freezing ash
and I'd hold your beautiful hands
as we would sing love songs we'd heard
during happier days.
If you got sick, I would dig you a cave in
the side of a ***** or build you a hovel
in some forgotten junkyard and wrap you
in everything I owned before going out
to steal food, disgusting rations that I would
wash down with deep kisses and draughts of
acrid oily water, until you were healed.
It would be the two of us, standing together
in the midst of a crazy swirling hell and
you would carry me if I got too tired and I
would lay your head in my lap at night and
run my fingers through your thinning hair
and talk about the moon and stars that we
remember but could no longer see . . .
and believe me, darling, I would be
the happiest person in my anathema version of heaven.