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Traveler’ s Lament
or
Slow Apocalypse


In nightmares I fear fire; the creeping ice
I dread. Yet now I fear my world will end
in distances instead. I fear the trend:
(it can not last) and wait the rising price,
the final anticlimax, the last flights
as energy, unstoppable, expends.
Last ships, last letters, forever, to friends
far-flung; a last e-mail, and now, the lights.


And when supply has failed demand, and we,
unwinding history, wait to expire,
I picture cities (that I’ ll never see
again) as they go dark, the useless wire
unseen and currentless beneath the sea
as geography contradicts desire.




Malka Older