Post-Apocalyptic


We are the last of us we call we. They
are hunting us. We've taken over
a decrepit building, its toes in a river,
its back against the woods. We've booby-trapped
each floor but where we live--or wait to die--
on top, so each time one of us returns
with candy bars, or paper scraps, or vodka,
we must remember we barricaded
the staircase we're to use; we must remember
to duck wires and crosshairs, avoid snares, hug
the walls around the rotting floor. We must
remember all doors are trap doors, and our fires
should be barely more than sticks. We must remember
remembering is always futuristic.

- Stacia M. Fleegal (from decomP)

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