Work Went On
Work went on in the hospital without patients.
The pregnant women died outside in the meadows.
The birds protected the dug up fields.
The rounds came and disappeared. The charts were now invented.
They dealt with protozoa and spiders and humans without toes,
cranes that flew through the ozone hole, got singed and died.
Nature endured. The hazel’s persevering catkin. The tenacity of
the brush, the desperate resistance of the roots and the wild rose branches
covered with prickles and thorns.
The unemployed gathered on the market square between high rises.
The animals had left their barns and fled.
No politician came to the appointed place.
Newspaper pages came out, white and unreadable like sacramental wafers.
The want ads were replaced by colorful comics.
All was abolished, both subscribers and news.
No one had an answer, any longer, to questions about the TV stations.
The questioners were powerless, the answerers likewise.
The big freezers were filled with unexposed film.