When they flew over that’s when I knew.
like tin barrels cut by chainsaws the engines roared
The back of my head attached to my shoulderblades
I looked up. My neck hurt but not as much as the sounds-
The sounds that made the dusty haze that made me think that made me realise
That we are long gone, that there was no reason to look back down to the
Soft soil that once invited me in which now seemed to purge me out- repulsive weeds wrapped me up. Earth’s no longer my home even if I don’t want to leave.
I know what’s to come.
I’ll go.