Polly Walshe


It came at last, the letting-go,
Up over the hill and down our street —
The end of time had, finally, been reached.
There was comfort in it, the worst happening

And it being of no consequence, since we were done for.
What did it matter if our digital photo frames were lost,
Our data-carrying devices? There was to be no cost
Since we were going under.

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