Living, Loving and Surviving in a Post Apocalyptic America
CariAnn Freed
March. In my small apartment on the southside of the city I woke up to the apocalypse. Death to life before You and Death to life after. April. Waking up to love is almost better than falling asleep in it. I hope they never find us. May. Who are You if not magic, if not lightening— I’ll follow You into every tomorrow. June. My world split like tectonic plates, A Black lava came bubbling between them like violent, like war— Like too dark to make nice Too violent to live within the Earth, Too fluid to be captured Too angry for sorry Through clouds of smoke and red flash I saw you
Volume 34.1 103
