I imagine there would be water. A lot of it.
Seeping through the windows of the living room,
pulling cars into the ocean without regard
for the souls still trapped within them.
The universe, I picture, would show no mercy
in saving what cannot be saved.

But what if there is no water, no cinematic tsunami
hungry for civilization, waves of indigo blue swallowing
the world whole. What if instead, it all ends
without a chip in the china, without blinking twice,
no headlines or mayhem. Just a flash.

What if we ceased to exist
the same way the clock strikes midnight,
the rhythmic turning over of an old day?

We wouldn’t even know it had happened,
no time to brace or prepare, no time to make amends.
We’d be writing and fighting and sleeping and cooking,
some of us keeping to ourselves, most of us keeping it together
—then a flash—
and all of us, suddenly, gone.

escapril day 21: it’s the end of the world

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