From the lips of the doctor
came the earth-shaking gong
of terrifying news-
only days, only months-
unending, unceasing, unrelenting pain.
Gazing at the fresh grave of a spouse
tomorrow doesn’t matter.
One line, not two
on the pregnancy test
for the seventh month in a row.
The empty womb weeps.
In the words
his house has been destroyed.
As we wait for Jesus, or zombies, or the rapture-
water turning to blood, planets colliding-
we meet our demise in the quiet of everyday.