Aftermath

Poem about a post-apocalyptic world.

“Aftermath”
by Steve Tripp
last modified 10/4/05

The boulevard is empty
inviting and lonely,
and it calls me.
No one here to tell me
“Don’t walk in the street.”.

With black silken rope, darkness strangles the light,
and I seek shelter.
I stare at a drug store,
it stares back with a broken glass
rictus grin.

Inside the drug store, contents delineated by shadow.
Passionless, achromatic.
I walk past the remnants of a distant life
that can no longer hurt me.
I fill my pockets with magic
to kill the pain of my wounds that won't heal.

Bloated, soft, and dark sits in a corner.
She is safe now as well.  We are alike
in that way.  I do not yet envy
her lifelessness.
I leave her to her eternal ruminations.

Outside again, light becoming a memory.
The mojo of a dead civilization
courses through my veins.  My pain
distant.  New colors, new calmness,
new clarity of thought.  And a new strength
to keep moving on.