Saturday, April 6, 2013

Post-Future Perfect

When the earth 
has smashed itself
back into
its component parts

and the eternal creatures
who evolved
from the radioactivity 

can not conceive
of things like "Saturday" 
or "mail delivery" or
any "communication requiring
primitive physical movement
of atomic matter"

the Emily Post Institute
will still exist
as a sentient feather
in a black hat
slogging diligently

in the name
of the timeless virtues

and respect

through the yellow
sulfuric haze.

This poem © 2013 Emily Cooper.