100 Days

Left before Decade
Street dead ends; no signs yet for
Apocalypse—quick,

the map should say right
here, turn before it’s too late.
Too late. Brace yourself;

the oncoming wall
won’t yield to golden license
plates. Hit the brakes, pray;

you can’t stop the brick
rain, mortar seppuku, dust
and fire and brimstone-

work gunning down your
roof as though we were the last
Jews in Vinnytsia.

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