The world ended not long ago.
Didn't you hear? It's not a surprise --
a few column inches in a local rag,
salient details, time and place,
phone numbers for relief groups
"Help the survivors of this awful catastrophe!"
Make a mental note and cry at the horror.
Memory turns to pulp along with excess newsprint
an hour, a day, a week later,
cushions delicate places with the crumpled remnants of anguish,
yellowed fragments proof that all existence once grieved.
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