Photo by Ian
Keeping Time During the Apocalypse
Samuel Goldsmith
The clap of shrap-
nel has derailed
the battery’s rhythm.
This pendulum can’t
even clap on two and four
let alone swing.
We unravel at
a tempo some measure
with beats, others with acres.
The sun melts us
two hundred beats per min-
ute until the coda
just around the corner
on the count of four or
forty acres and a mule.
D.C. al Coda
here comes the vamp and out:
This is wrong. This is wrong. This is wrong
Samuel Goldsmith
The clap of shrap-
nel has derailed
the battery’s rhythm.
This pendulum can’t
even clap on two and four
let alone swing.
We unravel at
a tempo some measure
with beats, others with acres.
The sun melts us
two hundred beats per min-
ute until the coda
just around the corner
on the count of four or
forty acres and a mule.
D.C. al Coda
here comes the vamp and out:
This is wrong. This is wrong. This is wrong