Caryl Pagel
SATURDAY
And according tothe stranger first ice sheets will thawsea levels willrise you read the stranger said toheights unheard ofshores will smother previous neighbors no onewill weather wellthe earth’s peevish heat will increase airitself septic streetsbridges unbearableof childhood—routesof recall—now a dream unnavigable Whatwas the wayyou once would take to call onthe one youloved which way did it begin againit’s gone aweintact perhaps but face it the strangersaid we’re goingto need new ideas you read we’regoing to neednew tactics strategies for endurance don’t ruminateon sinkholes watersupplies toxins massive unknowable truly undivinable fracturesin the brittletectonic masses Oh delicate underworld Oh greenchild You onceplayed orphanage What is this game anddid you playit—it’s orphanage and you would peacefullyenvision—Oh grimythe stranger wrote but what is youbeg any longera notion called he himself swelteringin bewilderment picturingall of the many ways in meditationone could expireexplosives beheading drought gunshot ambush hunger infectionrealistic utilizations ofthe imagination for how are we justnow accepting ourtrajectory as terminating here our breath haltshere it haltsin Chicago a Saturday sunny bright calm—identify animage or phrase shard of what couldhold a lastingthought durable the city’s night sirens icesheets the crimsonof the truck that took you Satchel’sgaze calm yourselfIs it simpler to accept the certaintyof ends whenliving as a woman what is awoman if notskilled in sudden cessation Say it Say
