If the Apocalypse Comes, My Love

I’ll shield your body 

From kamikaze angels 

Until I resemble the Ten of Swords 

Bladed pinion feathers 

Impaled over my back 

You, whimpering soft 

And safe underneath 

My shield of flesh and bone.

 

I’ll study old conspiracist’ bibles 

And parareligious pamphlets of paranoia 

Learning how to disable any bomb 

How to weave the best zigzags 

With your hand in mine 

Avoiding landmines

Playing chicken with missiles. 

I’ll roast roadkill over fire pits 

Assembled all by myself 

My muscles growing thick

From foraging for fungi 

Climbing up the tallest branches 

To snatch the squirrel and the walnut 

From dark-maw hollows 

And set traps for mutant monsters. 

My skin will sit tight upon my bones 

As I sneak tender morsels 

From my plate to yours.

I’ll lockpick and ransack the dwellings

Of WWII enthusiasts 

And neo-Nazis rotting in basement bunkers. 

I’ll steal all their gas masks 

To keep your dainty lungs 

Clean of noxious fumes 

And toxic feathers of bio-war. 

If the Apocalypse comes, my love 

I will raze down every machine

Gun-wielding mannequin 

And salt the earth behind me 

Until you and I remain the sole survivors.

Avra Margariti is a queer author and Pushcart-nominated poet with a fondness for the dark and the darling. Avra’s work haunts publications such as Vastarien, Asimov's, Liminality, Arsenika, The Future Fire, Love Letters to Poe, Space and Time, Eye to the Telescope, and Glittership. Avra lives and studies in Athens, Greece. You can find Avra on twitter (@avramargariti).