The Distant Future
       

When it happens—something will
catapult the crumpled case histories.
`Real property,' crosshatched

with games of Tic-Tac-Toe,
will break like old pavement.
I tell you now, triumph comes

like a heart transplant,
planned but long waitlisted.
Ragged thread of electric heartbeats

crackling, when it happens, a drop
of fat will fill the hole that's left.
Darwin's Tulips fringe

the that-which-never-happened.
Squirrels, bulbs—the blight
advances. You can count on that.

A mindless, simpleton blooming
ends, and the peonies take over,
pushing out their frilly little guts.

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Copyright © 2013 C.J. Sage All rights reserved
from Conduit
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission