"Pocket Apocalypse," "Antediluvian," and "Apocalyptical Time"

Pocket Apocalypse

I grew a bruise that purpled
into a tiny apocalypse
which I kept in my shirt pocket
and started going to fancy cocktail parties

People would pet my apocalypse
ask if I bought it
at some boutique online store
and often abscond when I told them
that it was born of my own flesh

It’s the only company I need anyway
like at night
when I put it on my pillow
feed it a clementine
and turn out the lights

Antediluvian

The apocalypse is antediluvian
its puckered tongue plicked​
the bottom of Noah’s ship
and was scattered about the world—
an invasive species in God’s perfect land of twos—
and grew into mouths teeth bone
and every second animal
became a meal for the apocalypse
who by this point had grown large and verdant and swole

Apocalyptical Time

A child rests inside the neck of a flower while the rest of the world hardens around it
The apocalypse licks its stone lips and swallows a sparrow and a pocket of bees
It’s time to forget stories of the flood because the apocalypse has no time for Noah—
swallowed him whole a few days ago as he was waxing his kayak

This is the time in the poem where the reader falls asleep
only to feel a pinprick on their cheek
the size of the child’s eye
who watches them as they fall into safety
while the world moans to move again

Inside the belly of this poem there is protection but you have to sniff out the opening

This is the time in the poem when the apocalypse sniffs out the opening
and buries itself within

This is the time in the poem when the child escapes the flower
and seals the poem up
with us all inside

This is the time in the poem when the child grows up to be the apocalypse
and we watch it through the seams in the poem as it swallows each word
one by one