Not Since the Cold War

by G.T.

have we witnessed a curtain over the sun of this magnitude

so put on your smokescreen glasses and redeem yourself for a chance
to win a free grande unicorn frappuccino if you text the eclipse emoji to 122312.

In the case the darkness does not swallow the Earth herself
—erasing her Japanese tattoos —— extinguishing her cheap perfumes—
we’ll go back in the basement and recount our stash
of shampoo and crackers & hide under our childhoods in wait of
the Chosun one’s vessel of Kapitalist repellent

unless an Indiana Jones unearths another Mayan premonition
beneath the ruins of a Borders Christmastime Calendar Kiosk

then we can laugh off the superstition of another kingdom
wrought with fools who swim in blood from the bay of pigs

waiting for Jesus to come

but he always pulls out at the last minute