Eventually climate stabilizes; farming revives.
Across the fertile belt, wherever it is,
patriarchs get what they always want –
obedient murderous sons, livestock women.
No racism – everyone’s café-au-lait – but
they’ll find someone: nightsoil collectors,
tanners … Strongpoints, empires,
slaves slaves. Monotheism:
He combines all persons of the Trinity,
the Hidden Imam and the Goddess Kali;
has helmet-like gold hair and from
a distance looks congenial:
if you sacrifice you’ll do well;
if not, well … Philosophy – not by the sea
this time, and there’s too much
gene damage; it’s mostly
reiterations of the obvious. But there’s
lots of engineering, so there’s hope –
we may yet see, before the oceans dry,
my utopia: scientists, artists, robots.
Read this while listening to ‘No Place To Go But Around’ by Frederic Rzewski.
Author of two book-length narrative poems, THE ADVENTURE and HAPPINESS, both Story Line Press; the former to be reissued by Red Hen Press. Two collections of shorter poems, A POVERTY OF WORDS, (Prolific Press, 2015) and LANDSCAPE WITH MUTANT (Smokestack Books, UK, 2018). Pollack has appeared in Salmagundi, Poetry Salzburg Review, The Fish Anthology (Ireland), Magma (UK), Bateau, Fulcrum, Chiron Review, Chicago Quarterly Review, etc. Online, poems have appeared in Big Bridge, Hamilton Stone Review, BlazeVox, The New Hampshire Review, Mudlark, Rat’s Ass Review, Faircloth Review, Triggerfish, etc.
WORDS FROM THE AUTHOR
I reject religion, loathe Trump and his supporters, and like to speculate about the future. After the seas rise, deserts spread, and billions die, T. would be a very plausible god; already he IS the coronavirus.