San Bernardino Valley College
United States

The end of the world falls
in silver shining dots on gray ground.
The sky has sunlight in it somewhere
over there, but here the shadows cup
a low roof above our heads. Silence.
A plastic bag drifts down. Lightning
rips across a row of fluorescent bulbs.
A golf cart aglow, a radio tower’s bones
stroking the sky-roof. The shadows roar
and the end of the world falls
in shimmering silver explosions
holding on to running heel prints and the smell
of Streptomyces.

This poem is about: 
Our world
Poetry Terms Demonstrated: 


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