Beginning of the World: A Saturday Poem

Beginning of the World

For months I have been such an animal I wish I would see one.
So I could eat it. No understanding of what comes next, the
stuff in stores is rotting. Morning is day, and day, night, no one
is anywhere, and the most useless thing would be a calendar.

I walk. Wondering why I survived, and then sleep, freezing.
Keep thinking that someone has to be somewhere.
Not a moving bird in days, this is why that flicker of white
startled me. Springing to my feet, I crept, crept, half-running –

and then full out, as I rounded that caved-in building. Were you
an Olympic sprinter when such a thing made sense? All I know
is that minutes from now, we are pulling potatoes from this fire.
And you stand, beautiful, coming over to my side of the blaze.

© Ciprianowords Inc. 2009