We were nearly two months into spring, only
moments away from summer, and yet, yet,
though three swifts had returned from Africa,
though a pair of ungainly wood pigeons
courted in a neighbour’s gutter, though there were
hot days perfumed with plants and bee laden,
wintry winds from the north harried clouds south,
and the sparrows were hesitant to lay,
the laburnum reluctant to unfurl
its golden curlicues. The Four Horsemen
are coming, not at a canter but
crabwise in dressage. Armageddon
is approaching, not with a bang and a flash
but little by little.
Note: This piece has also been published in EXTERMINATING ANGEL PRESS THE MAGAZINE.
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By David Selzer