AFTERMATH Poem by Elizabeth Cohen

in the latter days, the devastation was feathered
by the delicate embrace of smoke

the voices of the survivors arrived like blown kisses
there was a sense

of a softening
or maybe we were just used to it all

someone said that there was bread
at the supermarket on Upper Front Street

someone else said no, it was all gone
there were the aubades of children, whimpering

the operatic sighings of the elderly, who wore the beautiful woven
blankets of their sorrow

someone said the corona of the sun had untethered
a storm of electromagnetic waves

someone else said they saw a field of sunflowers
davening

In the latter days, water was warmer, the air
was warmer, the planet was warm and weary of us

after the earthquake, the flood,
after the flood, the wildfire

after the wildfire, the fund-raising rock festival
and the hurricanes, one and two and three

later, came the polar winters

and food harvested by the child-armies
in the hills. They were told they were the future

which they were not sure they believed