The world has long been ending by degree;
we’ve marched around the spun or broken fixtures,
savoring decorum that remained - until today.
This fallen planet hasn’t opened wider
to imbibe its dead,
seven wrathful angels haven't yet appeared
to serve up blood and lesions,
the clamoring of Jannes and Jambres isn’t louder.
No - at the convenience store
the patrons ceased to hold the door for one another.