By J G   

This disaster is not like the others:
it bleeds before the burning,
streaks lightning in the wilderness.
It takes us by surprise while our eyes
are still turning,
our arms siloing.
Falling before the aftermath:
and then comes the flooding.
All the beetles end up floating
bewildered, unmoored
I yell "Hurdle me those keys!
The boat is pulling towards morning!
You need to climb through the window,
I need to go with the flow.
What strange glory!"

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